


Of Spells and Potions

by bansheehime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Magic, Multi, Slice of Life, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansheehime/pseuds/bansheehime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simone Jones had a good and easy plan for her sophomore year: stay invisible. However, when the pull of the supernatural Beacon gets to be too much for her, she decides to answer the call of magic. In the small town in California she finds all that one teenage witch wants: a forest, a family, some friends, cute guys and, of course, a pack of werewolves.OCxStiles OC centric</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valley Oak

**Hello and welcome!**

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**Mythology of the story: I mean no offense to anyone who is practicing the Wicca religion. I’m mostly using the information that I can get either from the internet or from the fairy tales and stories from my country. Also, a lot of it will be fictional.**

**Updates: Slow.**

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**Here is my cast of the characters appearing:**

**Simone Jones: P** **ortia Doubleday**

**Mrs. Jones: Rachel McAdams**

**Mr. Jones: Jon Hamm**

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**Disclaimer: I don’t own Teen Wolf, only my OCs, plot and quite a bit of the fictional stuff that you will read.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Valley Oak**

It was dark all around me, the Moon the only lantern high in the sky. Its white light spilled like liquid silver onto the trees and leaves around me, accenting the rough moss-covered bark. I walked on, my bare feet moving quietly on the dark soil. I could feel the Earth between my toes, staying there with each step I took. Where were my shoes? Of all things, I wasn’t a particular fan of getting dirty. I would never be caught dead without shoes in this kind of a forest.

That was where I was, wasn’t it? A forest. That was strange, too. I lived in a city. Big buildings, lots of flats and cars, with small parks here and there, full of dogs. There were no forests for miles. Yet, here I was, barefoot, in a forest.

With a deep breath I smelled all the scents around me. The rain hadn’t fallen in a while, leaving the air clean and fresh, smelling of trees and earth. It was so peaceful here, relaxing. There was nothing to worry about. My mind drifted once more, leaving all rational thought behind and I observed the beautiful, pure, nature around me with a foggy kind of joy. It was like I was drunk, high and exhausted at the same time. My body was moving of its own will, taking me through the beautiful forest. Everything seemed so dreamlike, so unreal. Yet, it was too real. In my heart, I knew that it wasn’t imaginary or an illusion. I had learned a long time ago to tell the difference between the two.

My white dress caught on one of the branches, pulling it until it managed to get loose. I hadn’t noticed the dress before. It was one of those white vintage ones, the lacy kind that you saw attractive girls wearing in fashion magazines while sitting on the hood of old cars. I didn’t own anything like this. I wish I did, but I didn’t. It wouldn’t look good on me anyways.

A twig snapped to my left and I spun, my groggy body only barely listening to my commands. The beautiful dress swirled around my knees as I squinted at the dark trees, looking for the source of the sound. Slowly, she came into view, one hoof in front of the other. A beautiful doe bent its head down, chewing on the small patch of fresh grass in the shadows. Her ears perked up as she heard my feet slowly pressing into the ground as I tried to steady my dizzy head. Then, she was looking straight at me, her eyes somehow wise, knowing. We shared a brief stare down, as everything in my peripheral vision became blurry except her eyes. Her caramel, wise eyes. Then, she fled.

My feet moved on their own again, taking me away from the ray of light and the patch of grass where the doe was. My body was taking me deeper and deeper into the woods. Into the darkness. The Earth beneath my feet wasn’t bothering me that much anymore, but I kept looking at my blue toenails as I stepped onto the dark soil again and again. My hand brushed against the dark red tree bark for support as I went uphill for a while. It was peaceful here. Powerful, old and very peaceful. As if the whole forest was sleeping and willing me to sleep here with it. But, my body had another plan for me that night.

I looked up once more, as my feet finally slowed down. There it was, in the middle of the trees. A large stump, lonely, dark, sitting menacingly in the dark. I wanted to move away, but my feet were frozen. There was something wrong about that stump. It looked old, very old. And if I knew one thing, it was to stay away from old things sitting in the dark that are calling you towards it. I had learned that the hard way when I was younger. There was absolutely no need for repeats.

Then, my feet decided to move again. But, of course, they decided to move towards the menacing remains of a majestic tree, and not away from it. Despite the high that I was still experiencing and the dreamlike state in my head, my heart sped up. I could feel my throat closing in on itself as I began panicking. The closer I got to the tree, the more scared I was. I didn’t know why, but I was positively terrified.

And then, there was a flash of light and finally I had control over my own feet to stumble back. The high was over, leaving my body heavy and feeling very human. I stood still, staring at the light coming from the old stump. I squinted, finally making out the shape inside it. An old lantern was there, made of dark metal, curving in a beautiful way around a dancing ball of light that never stopped flickering with immense power. I could feel the surge of the pure energy hit me as soon as it lit up, and it didn’t falter, but just kept seeping into my skin, making me feel strong.

It was a Beacon. And I had to answer its call.

* * *

The Jones house stood innocently on the west side of the periphery of a city called Denver, in Colorado, USA. It was a fairly ordinary house for an unassuming passer-by. It had a nice, taken care of, front yard and a regular mailbox which said Jones in pretty, cursive black letters. The house had two stories and completely ordinary windows and door. It was painted a pale yellow, just like all the other houses on the block and its roof was a completely normal orange color, a little paled by the harsh Colorado sun.

However, the Jones family was anything but ordinary. The family had three members, all currently living in the Jones house. There was Mrs. Jones, a tall, fair woman, with a mass of auburn hair that was always styled perfectly. She wore those flowing dresses with pictures of flowers on them that trailed behind her while she worked in the garden or fetched the mail, and they seemingly never got dirty. She was also often seen with wide-brimmed straw hats, smiling at her neighbors as she went to do her grocery shopping by car.

Mr. Jones on the other hand was a man who always had a joke at the ready, with a smile on his face, like his wife. He was tall, but not too built around the shoulders. He was slim and carried a dress shirt very well, much to the neighborhood women’s delight. He was dark haired and light eyed, which was quite surprising with his slight tan. Mr. Jones worked a white collar job as a lawyer and was gone during most of the day, sometimes, he even went away for weeks or months on different business trips, leaving the house without his sleek black Mitsubishi in the driveway.

The last, but not the least, member of the Jones family was a teenage girl. She was pale, skinny and had light wavy hair that fell all the way down to her hips. She wore overalls and large sweaters, uncaring of her appearance. She was definitely the quietest of the Jones family, but, like her parents, always with a smile on her face and a light twinkle in her icy blue eyes.

All in all, when you put the three of them together, you wouldn’t think the young Mrs. Jones to be the wife of a successful businessman such as Mr. Jones. Nor would you assume that the pale, awkward teenager was their child, as they were all completely different people. Yet, they were a family. A family as happy as one could get in the city called Denver, Colorado in the USA.

However, this wasn’t just any family. No, despite their seemingly ordinary lives and jobs, they were much more special. After all, Mrs. Jones and her mother before her, and then her mother before her and all that way to Salem and beyond were what one would call these days a witch. They, of course, preferred a different name, Crafters or The People. The Wicca Community. Different things, different names, but all for the same thing.

Our story, though, doesn’t revolve around Mrs. Jones and her struggle with the magic within her. No, she had had her adventures and was living through her happy ending with her beloved and their child. Our story is about the pale, awkward, meek teenage girl that sat up in her bed, gasping at the peak of dawn. Again.

The girl lay still for a moment, her eyes glued on the baby blue ceiling of her room. She calmed down her breathing, reveling in the way her body was fully responsive to her commands despite the usual grogginess that came from sleep. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. One glace at her bedroom window told her that she was awake before dawn, again. She turned around, her back to the slowly brightening skies and closed her eyes, trying to go to sleep again.

Five minutes later, she tossed her covers off in frustration and got out of her bed. There was no use. It would be another early morning for her. The teenager walked to her dresser, taking her towel and a simple yellow sundress from inside, along with a change of underwear. Slowly, she crept into the hallway, leaving her room and tiptoeing to the bathroom.

She lit the first light when she entered the tiled room, enjoying the way the cold tiles felt on her bare feet. She glanced down looking at her green toenails. Wriggling her toes, she gave a small smile before turning on the showerhead and stripping to get into the tub. The bath was quick, as the girl had tied her hair into a bun on top of her head.

Soon, she stepped back out, spilling water onto the cold tiles and then wrapped herself into the fluffy towel that she had brought along. She brushed her teeth while looking at her reflection in the mirror and then rinsed them out. Something caught her attention just as she was about to turn around and get dressed.

A single green leaf sat in the messy bun of bed hair that she had put up in a rush. With wide eyes, the teen pulled it loose, studying it closely. It was a small leaf, no bigger than her palm. However, it was very distinctive. Its edges were lobed, along with small waves all around the green ‘fingers’. Under her, moist from the shower, fingertips, she could feel the fuzzy upper side of the leaf. The teen hummed in thought. She placed the leaf on the sink as she dressed at a leisurely pace.

The bathroom window cleared from the condensation as she let down her hair, running through it with her mother’s wide-toothed comb. It fell in soft waves around her face and down her shoulders and the teen gave her reflection a soft smile. Despite the lack of sleep in the last couple of days, she looked pretty decent. Well, not eye-catching pretty or anything. But, decent.  And, this was without a drop of make-up on her face.

Her grandmother was the one who influenced her no-make-up policy. She always reminded the young adult of how many chemicals there are in today’s cosmetics and how the original ones were made from Nature itself. She had even made lip-balm for her granddaughter in the end. It was a beautiful tone of pink, making her lips look fuller and giving her face a younger, more innocent look. It also smelled of roses, which was always a bonus.

The teen picked up her discarded towel, PJs and opened the door to the short hallway that lead to her room. On second thought, she stopped, reaching back for the strange leaf on the sink and taking it with her as well.

By then, the sun had peaked over the horizon slowly, its first rays hitting the windows of the modest house that the girl lived in. There was no need to turn the lights on as she arrived back into her room and tidied up her bed. She quickly scribbled the outline of her dreamwalking into her diary and then placed it back under her pillow. With a smile, she headed downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee and tea.

Their home was a simple one. A classic modern American house. It had two floors and a basement, leaving little to imagination. While there were three bedrooms on the top floor, along with one bathroom, there was a kitchen and a cozy living room downstairs. With a small smile, the young adult poured the water into the heater on the counter, making the water ready for the hot beverages that the family preferred.

Soon, there were three cups on the counter. One was wide and short with roses all around the rim. It was filled with chamomile tea to the brim, without any sugar. That one was hers. The taller cup was smaller in size and mass of liquid held and it was a host to her mother’s morning preference: good old Earl Gray with a hint of milk and a spoon of sugar. Her father was a whole different story. His cup was the medium one, and it wasn’t even a normal porcelain cup. It was a travel mug, full of dark coffee, complete with a lot of sugar.

With a small sigh, the girl took a book from the shelf, a big, old, plant encyclopedia and started looking through it for the leaf that lay next to her cup. As the sun shone brighter and brighter, she flipped through the pages, reading off the Latin names of the green trees and their properties. It must have been at least an hour or two before the teen heard light footsteps from the stairs. Her mother was up.

“Blessed be.” The woman’s voice was almost a whisper, gentle and soothing. Her daughter rolled her eyes at the religious greeting and gave her a small smile.

“Morning, mum. Tea’s on the counter.” She said in her normal voice, not worried about waking up her father. He was probably up, too.

“Mmmm.” The woman inhaled some of the smell from her cup fondly. “Earl Gray.” She commented with a small quirk of her lips. Finally, the teen girl looked up at her mother while fiddling with the current page in her book.

“Just how you like it.” The girl remarked.

“Your father and I really have created perfection.” The middle aged woman joked, sitting next to her daughter on the bar stool and leaning across the counter to see the book. “I don’t know how I survived without you all these years.”

“I’m sure you managed.” The teenager giggled and flipped through the book again. There was silence as her mother drank her tea and slowly woke up.

During the summer vacation this was a rather ordinary way for the Jones family to wake up. The daughter first, then the mother and lastly the father. Contrary to the stereotype that most teenagers were lazy, this girl enjoyed being helpful. It made her feel good and complete to be up before her parents, prepare them a beverage of their preference and tidy up a bit if necessary.

“If you are looking for this leaf, you are searching through the wrong book.” Her mother piped up suddenly, causing the teen to sigh, closing her encyclopedia.

“Do you know what it is?” That was a stupid question. Of course her mother knew. She was one of the best, after all. She shouldn’t’ve searched, but merely gone to her mother instead.

“Quercus lobata.” The woman spoke in Latin, smiling at her frowning daughter. “It is a type of oak that grows only in California.” She twirled the leaf in between her thumb and index finger. “Where did you get it?” There was a moment of silence before the woman sighed. “We’ve talked about this, Simone. You are to tell me whenever you dreamwalk.” It was as if the air between them caught fire. It was time for the first fight of the day, and only Gaia knew that it wouldn’t be their last.

Great. The teen thought. This was just what she needed. Another fight with her overprotective mother. “I didn’t. At least not for a couple of days until now. I tell you each time.”

Her mother stood up, placing her empty cup in the sink. “Dreamwalking is dangerous. You shouldn’t be doing it. You aren’t trained in these things yet, Simone.”

And there she goes, the teen almost sighed. I would be if you would just let me learn. She forced her anger down. There was no use. Her mother wouldn’t train her. No magic, that was her mother’s rule. It’s not like she wanted to dream of forests. She wanted a good night’s sleep, just as much as the next teenager.

“Of course, mother.” She meekly responded into her cup, drinking it.

“You don’t understand the severity of the dreamwalking!” Her mother kept going on. “As I thought, I should’ve bound you into our Coven. They would be able to control your power, unlike me.”

“No!” The teen finally raised her voice, causing the book in front of her to slam onto the table on its own. “I don’t want to be in a Coven!”

“No magic in the house!” Her mother yelled back. The teen didn’t retaliate. Instead, she fumed on the inside. It wasn’t like she wanted her magic to be out of control.

“You girls are at it again? Hell hath no fury like a witch scorned.” Her father had joined the party in the living room, already in a suit and with a briefcase. “Come on, give me a hug, both of you. Calm the storm clouds and the fires of Hell until I leave.”

And just like that, their argument was over. The two women of the house gave the man a hug each and he grabbed his coffee and ran out the door. As soon as the car engine sounded, the two dispersed from the living room. The teen headed back upstairs, while her mother went towards the garden, both fuming.

It was another usual morning in the Jones family household.

* * *

The girl lay on her bed in frustration until it cooled down. She had learned when she was younger that she had a bit of a temper, and that getting angry was never a good solution. Windows tended to break when she yelled. Any nearby liquid would boil. Sometimes there would be a sudden gust of wind or even a lighting crack. Mostly, this was completely unintentional.

The teen disliked violence. She preferred finding common ground or backing away. There were only a couple of people that could test the worst of her temper, and one of them was her mother. They loved each other, yes, but they had very different views.

While her mother was a confident woman who sought control and rules, the young teenager loved enjoying the chaos all around her and simply faded into the background to watch it better. The worst of their arguments came from two topics: magic and self-esteem.

As many girls in high school are, this teen was no exception to low self-esteem. She had always been a bit on the quiet side, but never this much. It completely destroyed her mother to see her only daughter become this meek wallflower, while she had been a queen bee herself. After all, they could have pretty much anything that they wanted at the simple snap of their fingers.

As for magic, that was another topic entirely. They didn’t talk about it as often as they talked about the teen’s dwindling confidence and increasing silence. It was mostly a taboo topic in the house. It was enough for Simone to mention anything about it, or even sometimes to think about it, for her mother to blow her fuse.

Catherine Jones, the mother of the family, as we said before, loved rules. Hence, she was all too much into Covens and group practicing. This was a more common way of crafting in the modern days, more commonly known as the Wiccan Community. Her daughter however, Simone Jones, was an old soul. She had listened to her grandmother talk about the Traditional ways of the Crafters so long that she never wanted to join a Coven. She didn’t want to bind herself to others, even though it would help with her control of the craft. So, arguments often erupted once the teen used her craft openly, or by accident, due to her inexperience.

Simone gave a sigh and pushed herself off her bed. The rage that she had felt during the fight had ebbed away, now only leaving a dull pulse in the back of her head. She knew that that was merely an echo coming from her craft after her outburst. She was calm already.

The girl headed to her desk, glancing down at the oak leaf. Regardless of her mother’s controlling ways, she was a resourceful woman who knew her craft. And Simone was no fool. If she was having dreams, especially the dreamwalking kind, she was being given a sign. And who was she to ignore the magic when it called?

The teen grabbed her phone and jumped on her window still. It was a tight fit, and for the thousandth time she wished that her mother would allow her to transform the darn thing so that she could properly sit. But, the ‘no magic’ rule was still in place. With a tired sigh of annoyance and a fleeting glance out the glass, the young girl dialed the familiar combination of numbers. There was always that one person that she could talk to about her magic.

It rang once, twice and then three times. She found her mother in the garden with her eyes, as the woman angrily worked on the new batch of roses. Then, finally, someone picked up on the other side of the phone.

“How much trouble are you in this time?” Her grandmother’s raspy voice skipped the greeting, making her smile. Her grandmother had gotten a phone simply because of Simone. She knew that only the teenager would call her on the line and she mostly skipped through the formalities. Not to mention her level of intuition was quite high, and the old woman could often guess the topic that her favorite granddaughter would bring.

 “Not much, for now.” Simone replied. She could never understand how her mother and her mother could be so different. It was like the two women weren’t even related.

“Are you still dreamwalking?” Her grandmother was always clued in to her life. She was one of those rare people that didn’t judge you and waited to hear the whole story. The teen knew, she could always tell her nana. And mostly, like this time, she didn’t even need to say anything.

“It happened again last night. I didn’t tell mum about the last couple of times. If she knew, she would blow.” The teen explained in a hurry, her voice a bit stronger than usual. She fixed her mother with her eyes as the woman in question shoveled dirt.

Her grandmother gave a small sigh. “I understand, Simone.” The old woman rasped, and it sounded like she was walking about and making something from the clanking in the background. “Catherine is a difficult woman, but she isn’t ill-willed, I assure you. Now, have you taken the potion that I told you to?”

“Yes.” The teen replied diligently. She had cooked up the draught in a pot on the stove a few days ago while her mother had been at the library for her ‘book club’. “I’m almost out of it.”

“Good.  You make some more, it should help. It is for slowing down the dreams and making you remember them in the morning. Did you have any more movement inside the dreamwalk this time?”

Simone nodded absentmindedly twirling a lock of her long hair. “Yes. The potion worked. This time I could see everything. There was a forest, and then a doe and then the same tree stump that turns into a beacon. It was much clearer in the morning than the last couple times.”

“Perfect.” Her grandmother agreed. “Did anything happen differently this time?”

“I brought a leaf from the forest with me to reality.” The teen confirmed, twirling the item in between the fingers of her free hand. “It’s valley oak, endemic to Cali.”

“And now you have your destination.” Her grandmother told her.

The teen snorted. “That isn’t what I’m worried about.”

Her grandmother laughed airily. “It isn’t wise to ignore a call, especially the one as strong as this one has been. What will you do Simone?”

“It seems that I will have some convincing to do.” She begrudgingly murmured, ignoring her grandmother’s laughter. She was still watching her mother in the garden. The woman was now preparing to water the plants. With a swift jerk of her slim hand, the teen made the hose in the garden sprout water, causing her mother to scream and start cussing.

“Good luck.” Her grandmother hung up, and the teen didn’t doubt even for one second that the old bat was smirking devilishly.

“It’s your daughter that I’ll be convincing, so help me Goddess.” The pale teen got up and left the leaf on her desk. It was time to start begging.

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**Hope you enjoyed! I’m looking forward to some comments!**


	2. Kittens

**Hello everyone!**

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**My choice of casting:**

**Coven Mistress: Andie MacDowell**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Kittens**

A couple of days later and the routine in the Jones household was still the same. Mr. Jones would rush out first, taking his sleek Mitsubishi to work. The two women of the household spoke politely to each other, but both knew that it was just a mask. The argument from a couple of days ago still hadn’t settled and another one was coming, with the young teen’s headstrong personality.

Every witch knew, after all, that not heeding the call of magic was more than foolish. The young girl had told her mother what she thought her dreamwalking meant, and she had requested to change her high school for the next year, to follow the call. Mrs. Jones wasn’t too keen on the idea. At the tender age of sixteen, her only child wanted to leave her home and everything she knew because of magic. She wanted to go to the Beacon, the place that attracted the supernatural like a magnet. Mrs. Jones wasn’t going to allow for that to happen.

Around noon, when Simone was in her room, reading and her mother in the back yard, taking care of the garden, the doorbell rang. The teen turned down her music and crept down the short hallway all the way to the staircase. She leaned just a bit, so that she could see the door when her mother opened it.

“Blessed be.” Her mother spoke and Simone instantly frowned. It was _that_ woman. Cruella, Simone chuckled in her head.

“May the Gaia watch over you, sister.” The sickly sweet voice of the Coven Mistress carried through the living room as she waltzed in like she owned the place. Which she pretty much did, by the way Simone’s mother was acting.

The woman was tall, like her mother. However, unlike the soft face of Mrs. Jones, the Coven Mistress had sharp features and high cheekbones. Her nose was bent and she always seemed to be looking down at you over it. She wore long dresses of vibrant colors, mostly deep purple, signifying the power that she had. On her head was always a complicated hairstyle, her mop of dyed red hair looking very unnatural with her black eyebrows. The thing that irritated Simone the most about her, though, was the smell of smoke that never left the wretched woman.

“Could I offer you some tea?” Mrs. Jones politely suggested. The Coven Mistress positioned herself on Mr. Jones’s sofa chair, the biggest one in the living room and took out her long cigarettes.

“Nonsense, Catherine.” She smiled at Mrs. Jones and lit one of her cancer sticks. Simone covered her nose and mouth with the long sleeve of her thin shirt, already smelling the terrible fragrance. “We should drink wine, sister! To celebrate!”

“Wine? But it’s noon, Amalia.” Mrs. Jones was frowning a bit, confused. Finally, Simone grumbled in her head. Maybe her mother would finally see what a daft cow the Coven Mistress was.

“But, yes, my dear!” The sugary voice of the older witch caused Simone to wince again. “Your cat is due any minute, after all!”

“Yes!” Simone’s mother went to the kitchen then, searching for the fanciest glasses that she had. Of course she would. She always acted like this when the Coven Mistress came over. Like she was some lowly witch that had to serve her boss. Idiot, Simone thought. If her mother would just be a Traditionalist, like her grandma, a true Crafter, she wouldn’t need to let this imbecile run her life. But, no. Her mother needed to listen to someone, else she was lost.

Simone stood up, having heard enough and headed for her room. Whenever the Coven Mistress came over, Simone and her mother would argue later. The older witch thought that Simone was a failure and a disgrace to her mother’s name of a proper witch. Much like Christians looked at paganism as primitive, the new-age Wicca community looked at their Traditional ancestors as uncultured.

“So, it will be five kittens, right?” The young witch froze, crouching back to listen further. Mrs. Jones was a classic witch, with her own black companion. On a rare occasion, the strangely smart and even tempered cat would get a litter of kittens. Some of them were normal, regular cats when they grew up. Yet, a couple could become as long lived and as magical as her cat. They had the potential to become familiars. This would be the first litter that Medea, her mother’s cat, would have. Simone had been waiting since the moment that the cat showed signs of pregnancy, as one of those kittens was supposed to be hers. Like her grandmother had gifted Mrs. Jones Medea from her own cats first litter.

“Yes.” Mrs. Jones supplied, offering a decorated glass ashtray to the smoking witch. “This will be her first litter and I’m very excited to see how many familiars we will have.” The woman actually sounded very ecstatic about the future addition to her family. Simone frowned. If the Coven Mistress was interested in the kittens, it wouldn’t end well. She was a selfish woman, rotten to the core.

“Perfect! Considering how the numbers of potential familiars drops in second litters, we are in luck.” The Coven Mistress drawled on with a wide smile on her face.

“What do you mean, Amalia?” Mrs. Jones asked gently, sipping her wine gracefully. Her mother was a pretty woman, Simone would give her that. Everything she did was graceful and pretty. Something the young witch couldn’t seem to do herself.

“Why, you and I are the only witches in the Coven who have familiars! We need to distribute the little ones among the sisters to make our magic more powerful.” Simone jumped up, her sleeve dropping from its place on her mouth. She must’ve made a lot of noise as both women turned to her.

“Simone, dear, how are you?” The Coven Mistress leered at her from her father’s sofa chair proudly. Simone didn’t even bother to answer at first. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach that made her want to slam something and then slam it again until it broke completely. Her mother’s surprised face and silent mouth did nothing to help with the rage that had built up inside of her like lava in an active volcano.

“I’m great, Ma’am. Thank you for asking.” She replied in a tiny voice, politely, averting her gaze from the leer that was just daring her to explode. With that, Simone left for her room in a hurry, closing the door silently before going to her headset. She put the huge headphones on her ears, separating herself from the high-pitched laughter of the Coven Mistress that was coming from the living room.

As soon as the grunge of the guitar riff blasted into her ears, Simone sighed lying back on her soft pillows, relaxing. She had hoped that her mother wouldn’t let the disagreements that they had come in between them as a family of witches. It was rare for a witch to have a proper familiar these days. There were so many ordinaries who were calling themselves Wicca that it was rare to even find a real witch. Simone had always dreamed of getting a familiar from her mother’s first litter. Like her mother had gotten hers from her mother as it had been done that way all through the generations in their family.

But, now, Simone would have no familiar. After all, Mrs. Jones would no doubt give the little kittens to the wretched Coven Mistress, leaving her without a companion. The pale teen felt her anger completely fading away, instead being replaced by a feeling that she hated. Her throat closed up on its own and her eyes pricked before the tears came, as usual. With another sigh, she turned to her window, watching as the lighting flashed across the skies and the raindrops that fell in a flurry.

* * *

That evening, Mr. Jones arrived at usual time, around seven o’clock in the evening. He unlocked and opened the door with a smile, entering his home and waiting to see his precious family. However, he was greeted by silence.

“Cath?” He called out, putting his briefcase on the counter and shrugging off his suit jacket. “There’s no need to prank me, it’s not Halloween yet!”  The handsome, middle-aged man looked around the living room and kitchen, not finding anyone. With a sigh, he climbed the stairs, fearing that his wife and daughter had had another row. He passed next to his daughter’s pink door, noticing the absolute silence that came from the room. Yes, he nodded to himself. They had had another fight.

“Cath, honey, we need to talk.” Mr. Jones entered the master bedroom, noticing his wife right away. She was kneeling next to the foot of their closet, her head inside.

“Oh, Sam!” His wife’s head appeared from the clothes. Her face was lit up with a brilliant smile of pure joy. It was a look that he hadn’t seen on her in a long time. “Oh, come and look at them!” She beckoned him over with her hand and he complied.

Despite the somber mood that he had fallen into when he noticed Simone’s silence, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. In the foot of their closet, there was a wooden basket that had a fluffy blue blanket in it. There lay a familiar black cat (which Mr. Jones hadn’t been overly fond of in the beginning), Medea, with six little kittens.

“Cath.” Mr. Jones kneeled, accepting the side-hug that his wife was offering. “They are beautiful.” He gave her a small kiss on the cheek and then turned to Medea. “Good work, girl. Now I will never be able to brush the hair off of my suits.” She meowed, and turned her head away from him, as if she were exasperated.

The Jones couple laughed it off, standing. “You don’t have to worry, dear, we won’t be keeping all of them.” Mrs. Jones supplied helpfully as the two left Medea to feed her family.

“Oh?” Mr. Jones asked, taking off his shoes and beginning to change from his suit into more comfortable clothes.

“Yes. Amalia came by today.” Mrs. Jones didn’t catch the way her husband paused in unbuttoning his shirt at the name. “She says that she will take them off our hands. You know, give them to the sisters from the Coven to raise.” When the man didn’t answer, Mrs. Jones spoke again. “What’s wrong?”

Her husband turned around, a frown on his face. “You know how Simone-“ he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, muffling his words. “-feaws apoud her.” At the confused, yet loving, look that his wife gave him, the man repeated. “Simone doesn’t like her, Cath. Couldn’t you meet at a café in the center instead of here?”

Mrs. Jones frowned. “I can’t bring my friends home?”

“That’s not what I said, Cath.” Mr. Jones sighed, flopping on the bed. “I’m just worried about her. She’s been shutting herself away from us for a while now. I’m afraid that she will get into something bad.”

“And what does Amalia have to do with that? She’s my friend, Samuel. Simone is sixteen!” Mrs. Jones stood up and started pacing next to their bed. “She should be old enough to understand that I will always have some friends that she doesn’t like.”

Mr. Jones sighed and threw up his hands. “I’m not sure when this argument became about your friends, Catherine. I’m just worried about our child.” He quickly folded his used suit and placed it in the dirty laundry. “In fact, I think that it might be a good idea for her to go to Beacon Hills. She could stay with Evie.”

Mrs. Jones looked at her husband in shock. “You want Simone, our Simone, to leave home?” She shook her head in displeasure. “And just because of a couple of stupid dreams?”

“No!” Mr. Jones pointed at the door which lead towards their daughter. “This is because of our daughter, Catherine! This is important to her, can’t you see that? Give her some freedom, for God’s sake!” With that, Mr. Jones left their room, heading downstairs to eat his dinner alone while reading through his papers.

* * *

It was a couple of hours later, when Mrs. Jones had fallen asleep, that Simone found her father still sitting at the counter. The glass ashtray was sitting in front of him, like it always did when he was irritated about something, and he stubbed out his cigarette. Just as he was reaching for the next one, Simone spoke up.

“Those will kill you, you know.” Her father looked away from his files and gave her a tired smile. He returned the cigarette into its packet and reached out with his right arm, inviting his daughter for a side-hug. She eagerly accepted. “What’s wrong, dad?”

Mr. Jones kissed his daughter’s head gently and turned a little bit more towards her. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, you aren’t getting into anything bad, are you?” When his daughter gave him a questioning glance, he explained. “You know, like drugs, rock n’ roll and bad boys on motorcycles? Or, even more bizarre, dark magic?”

Simone laughed, throwing her head back. “I have to admit, I do love rock n’ roll.” The young teen went to the fridge and took out some of the lasagna leftovers. She didn’t bother heating it up and got a fork.

“That may have been my fault.” Her father admitted with a smile.

“That was your fault.” Simone replied with her mouth full. The two shared a smile before Mr. Jones stared at his files for a few more moments. Simone kept eating, at peace. She loved these simple moments with her father.

He was a complete outsider to her magic. Sure, he tried to understand and to learn, but it was different form being born with it. She surely knew more than he did, and it was mostly because of her grandmother. But, despite the fact that Simone was the most boring and ordinary creature without her magic, she loved the non-supernatural moments that she shared with her father. They would play soccer in the back yard, breaking her mother’s pots and causing her to yell at them. Or, they would make dinner together, where he mostly did the cooking. Sometimes, her dad would even let her in on some of the details from his current cases and then they would attempt to connect the dots. It was so simple, so pure, that her head didn’t buzz with inside sarcasm like she was used to it doing.

“You really want to go to Beacon Hills, don’t you?” Mr. Jones asked after a while, interrupting his daughter’s messy chewing.

“Yeash.” She answered through her lasagna once more.

Mr. Jones let out another sigh, running his hands through his hair. “Pack your suitcase, then.” He said, flipping his files closed. Simone stared at him in wonder. He couldn’t be serious. Her mother would never allow it. “C’mon, honey, I thought that you wanted this.”

“You’re serious?” She pointed her fork at him. After he nodded, there was another question that still didn’t allow for her to start jumping. “What about mom?”

“I’ll talk to her.” Mr. Jones told both himself and his daughter.

* * *

Simone couldn’t help the jolly mood that had overtaken her. Despite the regular visits of the Coven Mistress to their house to monitor the kittens, she felt great. With her father’s permission and her grandmother’s support, surely they could convince her mother to let her take the trip to California.

She had dug out her old suitcase, the one that was usually used for family vacations, and began packing different clothes inside. Of course, she still kept it under her bed, safe and sound. However, the ten minutes that she spent in the morning, choosing the next outfit to pack into it made her day more than bearable.

Simone didn’t hate her mother. No, she loved her in fact. Mrs. Jones had been the one to introduce her to magic, after all. And magic was something that Simone was good at. It was that one thing that made her special. She was painfully average at school (unless she studied like Hell) and more than a failure at sports, since she wasn’t much of a work-out person (you could tell by the small amount of belly fat that caused most of her complexes).

Like every teenager, Simone had felt as an outsider more than once. Seeing the talented girl next to her drawing in her notebook during class. Or watching the other kids try out for the school’s hockey team. She had always been the invisible one on the bench, but it never bothered her. She knew, that she was the most special of the lot of them. After all, she could do magic. One little spell and she could make things move without touching them. One little rhyme and a cut would heal. One special blend of herbs and she could literary carry luck in her pocket. Simone had never felt the need to fit in, because she knew that she couldn’t.

So, she couldn’t resent her mother, despite all the recent arguments. She instead quite strongly disliked the Coven Mistress, Cruella as she called the woman, because the woman was the cause of her mother’s change. Since Mrs. Jones had joined the local Coven of witches to both limit her power and contain it, the woman had become meek. Simone was used to being quiet herself, but not for her mother to be like that. Mrs. Jones had always been a strong woman in her eyes. A role model.

But, nowadays, she was against Simone using magic, claiming how she needed a Coven to practice the art. This had caused a great rift to build in between the two, and Simone wasn’t even bothering to attempt to mend it.

“Simone!” Speak of the devil, the teen thought, rolling her eyes. “There you are!” Her mother rushed at her in a flurry of motions, hurrying her up and making her nervous. “Where have you been all day?”

The teen took off her sunglasses and placed them along with her messenger bag on the counter. “At the library.” Lie. “I wanted to finish reading ‘Catcher in the Rye’. It’s our next book at school.” Lie. She had been at the local bus station looking at ticket prices and then she had gone for ice-cream, both things that her mother would disapprove of.

“Alright, honey, but now you really need to hurry up!” Mrs. Jones ushered her daughter upstairs, grabbing the bag from the counter.

“Hurry up?” Simone asked. “Are we going somewhere?” It was always like this after an argument with her mother. Leave a little time to cool off, and then forget that it ever happened. Just sweep it under the rug. If there was something that her mother loved to do, it was pretend that everything was fine.

“No, honey. The sisters will be coming here to choose their kittens.” Mrs. Jones gushed with happiness. The little ones were a mere two weeks old, completely tiny. Simone had managed to sneak a peek at them while her mother was working in the garden a couple of days ago. Despite Medea’s pure black fur, the kittens varied in color. There was one, however, that had caught Simone’s eye. The only white one. It was the smallest of the bunch, the runt.

On some level, Simone hoped that it would be too small and not healthy enough to catch any of the sisters’ eyes. Because then, she might actually get to keep an offspring of her mother’s familiar, as was tradition. She felt bad about thinking such thoughts, but she still did. She wanted a familiar from her mother’s one. From the first litter. She had been waiting for that moment ever since her grandmother told her how Mrs. Jones had gotten Medea.

“Alright, I picked out the outfit for you. It’s on your bed.” Mrs. Jones spoke as soon as they reached the upper floor of the house. “None of those baggy sweatshirts for today, honey. I want you to look pretty.”

You mean you want to show me off to your friends. Simone bit back her words, instead giving a shy smile. “Of course, mom.”

As soon as Mrs. Jones left the room, slamming the pink door behind her, Simone let out a sigh. She looked around and noticed that her mother had ‘tidied up’ her room. With a groan, the teen undid her Dr. Martens and tossed them off into a corner. If her mother had fixed up her room, then she wouldn’t be able to find anything for a while.

Simone quickly threw off the dark green (very large) sweatshirt that she had been wearing. She liked those kinds of clothes. That way, there was no way that anyone would be able to see her belly. She located the dress on her bed and let out a groan. Of course, her mother would choose that dress. It was frilly, pink and came to her knees. Of course, it left her back open and showed off her waist.

The teen threw off her old jeans and quickly put the dress on. She located a modern kimono in her closet and threw it over, clasping a button at the front to hide her waist in the layer of loose fabric. Good, no one would see her stomach this way. And, the kimono top had little pink flowers on it. She was set. The teen put on her maroon Dr. Martens in rebellion and ran downstairs.

“Oh, Simone!” Mrs. Jones immediately noticed her. “You look beautiful! Now, let’s just do this.” Her mother undid the front button of the kimono and let the fabric fall down her sides. Mrs. Jones quickly went behind her daughter, braiding her hair expertly into a fancy braid in mere minutes. “You look perfect! Now, if you would just wear some more elegant shoes…”

“Of course, mom.” Simone said as her mother left for the kitchen. Of course not, the teenage witch repeated in her head, closing the kimono yet again. A wonderful aroma floated from the kitchen into the living room and Simone found herself wandering towards the source. She found her mother arranging cookies on various plates.

“Take these out.” Mrs. Jones said without looking up from putting some frosting on top. Simone grabbed two plates, forcing herself to look away from the delicious treats and placed them next to the two pitchers of fresh lemonade on the counter.

If there was one thing that her grandmother and mother had in common, that was their love of theatrics. Simone liked to call it ‘hotel mode’. Everything in the house had to be made so perfect, that it almost looked like they were living in a hotel. The living room had to be properly arranged, every notion of the fact that they had been there removed. Her mother always made their house look like it came from a magazine.

The doorbell sounded and Mrs. Jones ran towards it in her heels. Simone noticed her mother’s dress then. It was a form hugging red satin one that went perfectly with her lipstick. Oh, yes, this was going to be Hell, the teen thought.

Then, the door opened and the women pooled in. Simone found her breathing nervously hitched and her palms icy as her mother greeted the Coven witches naturally. Just breathe, she told herself as she felt the pull of her magic pump in the back of her head. She was uneasy, and her magic was doing the same thing. They were essentially one and the same.

The teen politely smiled at the group as they began to make themselves comfortable and then rushed into the kitchen as quickly as possible. She took a deep, shaky breath as the pounding in her head calmed, her legs regaining their feeling slowly. One of the small kitchen lights above her head flickered. The girl looked up. It blinked again.

Deep breath. Her fingers stopped tingling. The light went on. The pounding in her head lessened. Another flicker of the light. Deep breath. The light stayed perfectly on.

“Simone, honey, why are you hiding over there?” Her mother had come in. “What are you looking at? Do you see something?” Mrs. Jones took on a well-known tone. She wanted to know if Simone was doing anything with magic.

“No, mom. I was just going to bring the rest of the cookies out.” Simone quickly supplied a lie. If her mother knew just how nervous the girl was. Well. We will leave it at if. Mrs. Jones had always been a confident woman. Seeing anything less than that from her daughter wouldn’t be good.

“Great idea!” Her mother didn’t notice the slight tremble of Simone’s hand as she grabbed the last plate. “Melody brought her daughter, you should come meet her.” Mrs. Jones gushed as she undid the button of Simone’s kimono once more, leading her into the living room.

“Of course, mom.” The teen repeated once again, holding her sarcasm in.

**That’s all folks!**

* * *

**Hopefully, you’re enjoying the story!**

**Fun Fact: The name Amalia (Coven Mistress) comes from the villain of the first book of the Dragon Slippers children’s’ books series.**


	3. Fallout

**Hello!**

**Thank you very much for the hits!**

**WARNING: The story is fictional, in other words, the kitten’s symptoms are not real and are influenced by magic (in this story) as well as the lack of eating and warmth. The only statistics that are real are on deaf white cats.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Fallout**

Simone knew that her mother was a difficult person. Heck, she had lived with the woman for sixteen years. But, even she had to admit that she was about ready to drop the whole idea of leaving Colorado by the end of July. Sure, she wanted to. Her dreams had been just as vivid despite her grandmother’s potions and advices. She was about sick of them and wanted to finally have a good night’s rest without a walk in the forest.

However, there was one thing that she was willing to give up her sleep for. Her parents. Her father had supported her wish after their little chat more than a hundred percent. She had heard her mother screaming her head off at him in their room when they thought that she was asleep. Obviously, her father’s idea of ‘talking to mom about it’ had been a complete failure.

The rare bright side in the teen’s days were the kittens. At six weeks old, they had begun to explore the house on their own. Simone enjoyed following them in silence, just watching as they played with one another on the carpeted stairs or ran around the living room. They had all been claimed so far, even the little white runt.

The teen witch could remember the sick feeling in her stomach that she had had when the daughter of a coven witch had chosen the small fur ball. That had been Melody’s daughter, one of the quieter of the bunch. Simone didn’t know her, and she really didn’t even want to attempt to get to know her. The mere sight of the coven witches, giggling, talking or just sitting there made an anger stir in her stomach.

These women, they chose to bind themselves to each other to limit their magic. They forbade the simplest of spells at one’s home in their baseless fear of exposure. They caused such anger in Simone, who had seen the way her grandmother lived in balance with the nature and magic. The idea that these women, these modern so-called witches kept their familiars as nothing more than lazy pets and magic boosters. They didn’t realize that those familiars were magnificent creatures, full of wisdom and enchantments. They weren’t there for decoration, they were there as spirit guides, as friends.

Simone’s sudden burst of anger at her thoughts was broken as the little white fur ball jumped into her lap shakily. The kitten turned its tail a couple of times to steady itself and it dug its tiny claws into Simone’s bare thighs. She smiled at the little rascal, despite the pain. The little one was still the smallest in the litter and she had secretly fed him a couple of times with milk and food from the pet shop. He seemed better, yet he often played alone, away from his brothers and sisters. Mrs. Jones wasn’t too happy with the isolation of the small kitten and was always murmuring to herself how the little one had the least chances of possessing any magic.

The white fur ball let out a pitiful meow, falling off Simone’s legs and towards the floor. The witch caught him with fast reflexes, smiling. “I’ve got you, little guy.” She whispered gently, probably the most affectionate sentence that she had said in a while.

The little kitten meowed and then settled into her lap where she lowered it, preparing for its afternoon nap. Simone loved these moments. It was then, when it was so simple, that she felt true happiness. The Old Religion didn’t teach that one should care for material things much. Rather, what Mother Nature gave, she would take away at her own will. So, a small gesture such as a kitten sleeping in her lap put the young Traditional witch at ease.

“Simone, honey.” Mrs. Jones entered the living room, immediately noticing her daughter sitting comfortably and reading a book as the kittens played around her. “Oh, thank the Goddess that the kittens are inside!”

The teen witch turned her head around to see her mother peeling off her wide-brimmed summer hat off of her head in distaste. The middle-aged woman was soaking wet, dripping all over the uncarpeted part of the floor as she got rid of her bag and silk shawl (which hung like a pitiful wet rag) as well. Simone stood, carefully putting the white kitten on the sofa and headed to the downstairs bathroom for a towel.

“The rain came out of nowhere!” Mrs. Jones kept talking from the living room, but her daughter didn’t bother answering. They were playing the same game of ‘swipe it under the rug’ again. Simone knew that her father had been sleeping in the guest room by the number of cigarettes in his glass ashtray. And she knew that her mother had been crying herself to sleep by the bags under her eyes that she tried to hide with concealer.

“You shouldn’t be spending so much time with one kitten, Simone.” Her mother spoke as she dried her hair with the towel. “It will think of you as its mistress if you do. And you know that it belongs to Clarice.” Simone managed to choke down her sarcastic response of ‘yippee’ a she smiled and replied instead with a polite:

“Yes, mom.” And then the teen returned to her book, promptly ignoring her mother’s attempts to dry herself off with a towel. This is why she didn’t want to bind her magic. If it had been her grandmother getting wet, the woman would’ve just waved her hand and gotten dry. Yet, here was her mother, squishing about it her wet heels. Those had been expensive, too.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Mrs. Jones arrived back into the living room which was now filled with Simone’s anger. Her leg was unconsciously bouncing as well. The middle-aged woman lowered herself into her husband’s sofa-chair and regarded her daughter for a couple of moments. Simone didn’t look up from her book. “You forgot to pack you spell books.” The woman suddenly said in an even tone, the one that was nostalgic for Simone. It was her mother’s usual tone of voice. Back when she had been a strong and confident Traditional Crafter without the need to cower at someone’s feet.

“What?” Simone asked stupidly and quite rudely in her shock.

“There is my rude and spirited girl.” Mrs. Jones smiled sadly at her daughter. “Well, you will need your spell and potion books in that suitcase of yours.” The woman continued. “After all, you will be staying with Evie. Knowing her, she will make you double-study, for both school and the Craft.”

Simone was numb, staring at her mother with her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water in shock. “What?” She repeated dumbly.

Mrs. Jones finally laughed. It was that sound that had used to fill the house before. It was the thing that her daughter gravelly missed. “You _do_ still want to go to the Beacon, no?”

“Yes!” Simone finally answered with enthusiasm, jumping up from the sofa and scaring the poor white kitten out of its sleep.

“Good, because I sent your transfer forms to the Beacon Hills High today.”

The teenage witch was still vaguely aware of the disbelief that riddled her system like a disease. Her mother hadn’t been ‘on her side’ in ages. Something like this wasn’t normal. It wasn’t usual. No, it was most unusual. But, who was she to look at the mouth of a gift horse?

“Thank you sooooo much!” She let go of her emotions, a lightbulb bursting somewhere behind her as she hugged her mother’s still damp form. The happiness that she felt, both from herself and her magic, completely overwhelmed the feeling of unease that was still somewhere in her mind.

“Alright now, honey. Go pack?” Her mother asked, smiling. “I’ll call Evie and talk to her about taking you in for a bit… I don’t doubt that she will be happy.”

Simone didn’t need to be told twice, she made herself scarce, running upstairs.

* * *

The situation at the Jones house greatly improved since that fateful day. Mr. Jones would take his sleek, black Mitsubishi to work, arguing case after case and putting criminals in jail. While he was away, instead of separating each other as much as possible, the two women spent days together, choosing outfits, playing with the kittens or deciding which spell books to pack.

Mrs. Jones had phoned her friend in Beacon Hills, and she had been told that Simone could travel to California in a week’s time. This, of course, saddened the mother. She was sending her only child into a different state, a small town in the middle of nowhere, where she couldn’t protect her. But, she trusted Simone, no matter how much they argued. So, Mrs. Jones grit her teeth, like she had done so many times before in her life, and decided to let her little witch go.

It was a sunny afternoon when it happened. Simone was walking down the hallway which lead to the stairs when she heard her mother scream out from the living room. The teen quickly ran downstairs, only to see Mrs. Jones bending over something small.

“’Mom?” She called out, her voice cautious. “What’s wrong?” By then, the pale girl was already next to her mother. When Mrs. Jones moved, Simone could see it. There was a small white fur ball, laying against the leg of their coffee table, unmoving. “No.” Simone’s knees stung as they hit the carpet, the impact going through her whole body. “Mom, we need to take him to the vet.” She turned to Mrs. Jones, who was still holding her heart in shock, staring. “Mom!”

The older witch seemed to snap out of it. “Y-yes, o-of course, honey.” Then she scrambled about to get her things into her purse. Simone would’ve laughed at the irony, but it wasn’t the time. She gently picked up the kitten, noticing the slight rise and fall in its fur as it breathed. It was alive. The teen witch looked at her, still panicking, mother and got up, taking the car keys from the tabletop.

“Let’s go, mom.” Simone told her mother in a calming tone, taking the kitten with her as she opened the door and left the house. Mrs. Jones followed, shaking. They reached the garage, which the teen opened, revealing the car that usually sat there, unused. It was a well-kept Mercedes-Benz coupe car, silver and ready for driving. “Take him.” The teen handed her mother the little fur ball, getting into the driver’s seat.

Simone leaned over, stretching to open the door for her mother and the shaky Mrs. Jones entered, careful not to damage the kitten any further. Soon, the teen was starting the vehicle and parking out, turning to check the driveway behind her. They were on the road for what seemed like hours, where it was merely minutes.

“Simone, he’s started shaking.” Mrs. Jones said as Simone stopped at a red light. The teen glanced over, noticing that her mother had calmed somewhat. She had known that her mother was prone to panic, but had never seen it in person. Mr. Jones always found excuses for his wife’s inept behavior, in Simone’s opinion.

“Try a healing spell.” The teen murmured, glaring at the red light. It wasn’t changing. There was no one in the street, no one behind them, only their Mercedes on the slow, Sunday afternoon.

“Which one?” Mrs. Jones asked, panicking again. “What if the magic caused its illness? I’ll just make it worse by putting my magic in its tiny body!” The woman had begun rambling.

“For God’s sake, mom!” Simone yelled, glaring at the red light with her eyebrows burrowed in concentration. “Just do it!” And the teen pressed the gas paddle, the red light cracking above their heads as all three holes lit up with a green color. The silver Mercedes slid down the street like a running cat, leaving the faulty traffic light in their wake.

“Alright, alright.” Mrs. Jones pulled out a needle from her bag and pricked her finger. Then, she put her hands gently above the kitten’s stomach, murmuring quickly under her breath. Simone could feel the back of her head pounding, both from her unintentional magic and from the charge of her mother’s spell as the healing begun its work. “It’s not helping.” Mrs. Jones said as Simone took a sharp left, skidding into a parking spot.

“Let’s go.” The teen ushered her mother out of the car and they were soon entering through the glass automatic doors, Simone running to the counter. “Excuse me, our kitten isn’t well. Can you help us?”

The black woman looked up, fixing the teen with her almond shaped eyes. They were kind and soothing, and the teen felt the nurse’s calming aura spread into her, making her take two deep breaths, the cool panic leaving her body.

“Of course, miss.” The nurse spoke. “Where is your kitten?” Simone pointed over her shoulder at Mrs. Jones who was sitting in a waiting chair, cuddling the small fur ball. “Let me see which veterinarian is available at the moment?” And the nurse, ‘Tara’ her nametag said, picked up the phone, dialing a number. Simone walked away, towards her mother.

“They are getting us a vet.” She informed as Mrs. Jones shot her a questioning stare. “Let me take over for a while?” Simone asked, stuffing the car keys into her back pocket and extending her hands for the kitten. Her mother handed the small animal over, its little body still trembling terribly.

“I’m going to go wash up.” Mrs. Jones said, trembling as she walked towards the toilet sign. Simone lowered herself into the, now unoccupied, chair and patted the tiny creature in her lap. He was still the smallest of his brothers and sisters, even though he had grown over the last week.

“Hang on in there, little guy.” She murmured in a low voice. The teen noticed that her own hands were trembling as they cooled off from the adrenaline rush. Her fingers were icy. Yet, the small white fur ball slowly stopped trembling and then fixed the witch with its blue eyes, meowing pitifully. “You’re gonna be fine.” Simone reassured him. “I’m gonna take care of you.” The kitten let out another pitiful sound and then tucked its head as far as it could go between the teen’s elbow and body.

“Miss?” Nurse Tara called from the information desk, causing Simone to look up, her cheeks going a bit red at the fact that she had been seen talking intimately to the small cat. However, the nurse had a smile on her face. “Dr. Torrez in room four is ready for you.”

Simone stood, cradling the white kitten. “Thank you so much, nurse.” She politely said to the black woman with kind eyes. “If you could direct my mother?” The girl left the question hanging, but nurse Tara answered.

“I will.”

* * *

An hour later, Mrs. and Miss Jones walked out of the veterinary hospital, Simone carrying the little fur ball and Mrs. Jones holding the bag of medicine that the doctor had prescribed. They headed towards the Mercedes-Benz, not speaking a word between each other. The teen opened the driver’s door, sliding into her seat, just as her mother buckled up. There was a moment of silence between the two women, as they simply sat, coming down from the high of their panic.

Then, a soft meow sounded form the kitten and the two witches looked at it, then at each other and began laughing. Simone’s cheeks hurt by the time that they slowed down to chuckles and then, she saw her mother’s shoes.

“Mom.” The teen said through her chuckles. “Your slippers!” She pointed with her finger, laughing at her mother’s pink, bunny house slippers. Mrs. Jones laughed herself, and then nodded at her daughter.

“You are no better, young lady.” And Simone looked down to her oversized pajama top with little giraffes all over it. The two women fell into a spell of laughter once more, and for once, it had nothing to do with their magic.

* * *

The drive home had been spent in playful banter between mother and daughter as the two discussed plans for dinner. But, all too soon, they were welcomed home by the sound of hungry cats, meowing and rubbing all around their calves as the two entered the living room.

“Will you feed them while I change?” Mrs. Jones didn’t wait for an answer and went upstairs, leaving her bag at the counter, as usual. Simone shook her head. Well, she wouldn’t expect her mother to change completely. Especially not after a trauma like today’s. She would simply be grateful for the fact that she had been allowed to go to the Beacon and figure out her dreamwalking.

“Here you go, you little rascals.” Simone lowered the bowls of food to the floor for the kittens and then put the bigger one on the side. “And for you as well, Medea.” The black cat meowed, as if in thanks, and began eating.

The teen witch noticed that the white kitten wasn’t eating and picked it up into her arms once more. Just as she was sitting on the couch with the kitten and the medicine that the vet had told them to give him, the phone rang. Simone ignored it, knowing that her mother would pick up upstairs. She looked at the black machine as it rang and she knew who was calling, like it had often happened before.

“Amalia! So good of you to call!” She heard her mother cowering upstairs and frowned. She was right yet again. But, what was Cruella doing calling them? It wasn’t time to take away the kittens and make a coat out of them yet. They had about a week still. Simone truly hoped that she would be on her bus to Cali by then, so that she wouldn’t see the little ones leave.

“Here you go, little guy. Eat it all.” The teen soothed the little white kitten, giving it a small tray of food and medicine. She tried very hard to hear the conversation upstairs form her spot, but it was impossible. Then, she lowered the kitten on the couch and left it there to slowly lick its food as she walked to the black wireless phone. She picked it up, hesitating for a second before clicking the green button.

Instantly, the connection of two machines on the same line came through, Simone being able to hear the whole conversation. “How is the little one?” The Coven Mistress asked, exhaling, no doubt her cigarette smoke, on the other side of the line. “Anything permanent? You know that Clarice will not take a damaged item.”

Simone grit her teeth as her mother responded. He was not an item! “Nothing to worry, he is just a little on the thin side because he is the runt of the litter. Also, it seems that he hasn’t been eating well or sleeping with his siblings, so the vet has prescribed some medicine to fix-“

“So the runt is alright?” The Coven Mistress interrupted, exhaling once more. “I don’t want to give Melody a reason to leave this Coven, Catherine. She is one of the more powerful witches that we’ve got!” I hope she leaves, Simone thought, putting a hand over the holes on the bottom of the phone, making sure that she was completely silent.

“Yes, of course, Amalia.” Mrs. Jones politely answered. “The kitten will be just fine.”

“Good.” Cruella was obviously smiling on her side. Simone could hear it in her voice. The nasty, long leer that the woman did with her painted lips. “Thank you for phoning me when it got diseased, Catherine, but I truly must go.” And laughter along with music was heard from her side of the line before it went silent.

Simone felt her anger flare at the parting words. Of course her mother had to go and do something like that. She had been panicked, at a loss of what to do with the kitten, yet she had been composed enough to phone her Mistress. Probably to report both the status of the pet for Melody’s little perfect daughter. Not to mention the fact that she had done a spell without permission! Goddess! That was surely a scandal being re-told among the Coven right now.

Simone sat back down next to the kitten, smiling as she saw the empty plate. “Shall I give you some more?” She asked, the rage that had been filling her moments ago, gone. She was calm again. She wondered what her mother would say to the Coven Mistress if she knew what Dr. Torrez had told Simone when they had been alone.

_“He is white, miss.” The Doctor had told her with a sad smile. “There is a high chance that he will become deaf in the future.”_

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Soon enough, Simone was all packed up and ready to go. She had been the day before to buy her ticket to Beacon Hills. There, she would be welcomed by her Godmother, Evangeline. Mr. Jones had taken two sick days, to help his precious daughter get ready for her big trip. Mrs. Jones had been stealing numerous moments throughout the preparation with him, though, making their daughter chuckle and rush out of the room.

Around noon, Mrs. Jones began hurriedly making cookies, and that could mean only one thing: her sisters from the Coven were coming over. Of course, Cruella had to choose the day before Simone left to take the kittens away from their mother. Simone knew that she was being a tad overdramatic about the little fur balls. At twelve weeks, they were ready to leave their mother, it was the perfect time to adapt them to their future homes. Yet, the teen still felt uneasy.

She mostly waved it off at her jealousy. She was quite envious of the daughters and witches from the Coven who were getting familiars. One of them should’ve been hers. One cat for her familiar from the first littler. Like it should be by tradition. Simone was a Crafter, not a Wicca. She was tradition.

“Here they come!” Her mother’s voice rang out moments before the bell sounded. Mr. Jones walked away from the door with an uneasy smile. As comfortable as he was with his wife’s magic, he was a tad edgy around her Coven sisters. They tended to crowd him and overexcitedly ask him questions about dealing with his witch wife, as most of their husbands were in the dark about magic.

“Running away, oh brave father?” Simone commented, leaning casually against the doorway to the kitchen. Her maroon Dr. Martens proudly on display as she crossed her legs casually.

“Rebelling, oh favorite daughter?” Mr. Jones retorted, nodding at her shoes. Simone smirked.

“I’m your only daughter.”

“But you’re still my favorite one.” The middle-aged man gave his daughter a kiss on her hair in passing and casually hid in the kitchen, waiting for the witches to calm down a tad before he would come out. Simone didn’t hide this time. Unlike all the other occasions when her mother brought her sisters over, this time she truly didn’t care. Normally, she would be either angry or terrified, yet that day, she felt indifferent. She didn’t care what the women thought about her any more. She would leave tomorrow, and wouldn’t need to see them for at least one year, if not more.

Slowly, hours dragged on, the Coven witches gossiping and giggling in the living room. Simone gave them tea, and cookies, and later wine and chocolate with different fresh berries. She carried plates and cups back and forth, making sure that her mother could sit and chat with her friends. She didn’t mind. This way, she didn’t need to talk to the women and she seemed obedient and useful.

Most of the other daughters that had come with their mothers sat on the sofa, chatting about new rules and plans for their Coven. They were all planning to be bound to it. Simone stood, leaning on the kitchen doorway, her Martens on display as she located Clarice, Melody’s daughter. She frowned. The girl was on the quiet side, but she was off somehow. She wore a blue dress, properly ironed into perfection and she smiled all the time, her eyes fixed on the current speaker through her thick glasses.

“So, Catherine, I heard that one of the kittens had gotten sick?” One of the sisters said, sipping her wine. Mrs. Jones nodded, smiling a pained smile.

“I assure you, it’s completely fine, Marie.” She replied tightly, but the damage had already been done. Clarice leaned over to her mother, whispering into her ear. Melody nodded, taking one of the strawberries off the plate casually.

“Is it true that my Clarice’s familiar-cat is deaf?” The witch spoke, fixing Mrs. Jones with a stare. So, there was that, Simone thought. By her mother’s shocked face, she knew that the woman hadn’t heard of the possibility yet.

“W-why, M-Melody, I don’t believe so. He responds perfectly to everything.” Mrs. Jones attempted to compose herself, choking a bit on her sip of wine. Melody nodded, though, smiling at her daughter.

“See, dear, everything is fine.” She told Clarice quietly, but Simone managed to catch it.

“Mother, I don’t want a handicapped, sick familiar. She needs to be strong, so that I can be strong.” Clarice responded a tad louder, causing the living room to quiet down. Simone grit her teeth, holding back. Spoiled little witch, she thought. She felt the doorway trembling under her shoulder and tried to calm down the pounding of magic in the back of her head.

“Sweetie, this is a great opportunity for you to get a familiar form one of the original lines. Catherine’s family has been full of witches for ages!” Melody replied a little quieter, but still, it rang out in the silence.

“But he’s sick.” Clarice whined. “I don’t want a handicapped familiar.”

“Then you don’t have to take him.” Simone snapped finally. “The fact is that only 17 to 22 percent of white cats with non-blue eyes are deaf. He still hasn’t changed eye color, so we still don’t know if he is deaf or not. However, the chances of him being _handicapped_ rise drastically if he does have blue eyes. In fact, 65 to 85 percent of all-white cats with both eyes blue are deaf.” The teenage witch finished listing her statistics, walking over into the living room. She had researched the topic as soon as Dr. Torrez had told her of the option of the kitten being deaf.

“What’s your problem?” Clarice stood. Obviously, Simone had been wrong about the girl. She wasn’t quiet because she was shy. She was quiet because she was a real piece of work. “If you want the little runt, take it. You weren’t good enough to get a proper pick from the litter, like a daughter should from her mother’s familiar. So, why don’t you pick up my broken leftovers?”

Now, Mrs. Jones stood up, a harsh look on her face, and Melody caught her daughter’s arm. Simone smiled, bending over and plucking the white kitten from the sofa where it had been trembling next to Clarice the whole afternoon.

“Sure, I’ll take him. Thank you for your generosity.” Simone grinned at the girl, her blue eyes flashing with anger. “And it’s a male cat, idiot.”

Simone walked out of the living room and upstairs, her Dr. Martens clanking as she went. She could hear a commotion downstairs, but she didn’t give a damn any more. Tomorrow, she would be leaving for Beacon Hills with her familiar, safe and sound.

**That’s all folks!**


	4. The trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the hits!

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4: The trip**

“Simone, honey, you’re going to be late!” Mrs. Jones called out from the living room, making her daughter panic even more. Simone’s leg was jumping up and down as she sat at her computer desk, clicking hurriedly.

“I’ll be down in a minute, mom!” She yelled back and then urged her computer. “C’mon. C’mon, you slowpoke!” The door to the teen’s room opened and in stepped Mrs. Jones.

“Honey, Evie has a computer at her home. You can play when you arrive there.” She spoke, packing up the rest of the leftover things from her daughter’s room in a bag. Simone glanced over, but then quickly returned her eyes to the ITunes software that was making her go insane at the moment.

“It’s not about the computer, mom. I just need my music on the trip.” Mrs. Jones shook her head, but didn’t comment as she closed the bag and headed out.

“Just hurry up. You still haven’t packed your backpack.” The woman reminded her nervous daughter. Simone nodded, her eyes still fixed on the number of songs that were currently being transferred to her phone: Syncing ‘Simone’s Phone’ (step 4 of 4), Copying 15 of 158: Familiar Taste of Poison. The teen jumped up, leaving her computer to do the work.

She walked to her bed, which was covered in things that she planned to pack into her carry-on. The teen opened her blue backpack and started placing things inside. She packed two books, ‘Soul Music’ by Terry Pratchett and ‘The Best of Healing Spells: Fix your Cuts’ by Melinda Darkowl. The ride was going to be long and she would need some entertainment. Then, Simone picked stuff up from the bed, dividing which to put in and which to leave in Colorado. Pretty soon, she was ready.

Last, she turned to her computer, noticing that the ITunes software had finally finished its job and transferred her music. Simone grabbed her phone and the USB cable, putting the former into her pocket and the latter into one of the smaller pockets of her backpack. She quickly jumped into her Dr. Martens, the fateful shoes that she never took off and laced them up by memory.

Throwing her backpack over one shoulder, the teenage witch turned around to inspect her room for the last time. It was bare somehow, now that she had packet most of her stuff away. The shelves, usually filled with books and papers (her notes on different subjects and spells) were kind of empty, the leftover tomes falling to the side without support. Her closet door was open, showing empty hangers and shelves, where her clothes used to be. Her bed was all made-up, perfect in the sky-blue sheets with little stars that she had bought but a year ago. The computer stood alone on her desk, all the CDs that were usually around it gone. The window seat was still the same, a pillow and a blanket lying there, but it was empty somehow, as Simone had a feeling that she wouldn’t sit there ever again.

The witch closed the door of her old room, a tiny sigh leaving her mouth. Little did she know, that she would never see that space again.

As soon as the teen entered the living room, Mrs. Jones grabbed her arm and began pulling her along, towards the door. Simone wordlessly followed. She knew from all the trips that she had taken with her mother that one simply did not refuse the woman when she got like this.

“Out. Out.” Mrs. Jones pushed her daughter out of the house, locking the door quickly. The dark, sleek Mitsubishi was in the driveway, Mr. Jones packing the last suitcase into the small trunk. He seemed to be having some trouble, as the car was made more for speed than for travel. They usually took the Mercedes-Benz when they went on a holiday. “In. In.” Mrs. Jones was right behind Simone, her slim, but strong, fingers griping the teen’s elbow and pushing her into the back of the car. Undoubtedly, she would have bruises from those fingers due to her pale, easy to bruise skin, tomorrow.

Simone slid into the leather seat, immediately noticing the old cat transporter. Inside was her new familiar, looking about wildly. He knew that something was going on. That reminded her. She still needed to pick out a name for the little guy. She had tried not to name the kittens, as they would have new owners anyways. Simone hadn’t wanted to become attached to the little ones. Who was she kidding, she had cried the whole day yesterday because the house was empty of little padding creatures. At least she had hers now. From the first litter. Like it was tradition.

“It’s a bit big for him, isn’t it?” Mrs. Jones had buckled into the front seat. She was twisted in the comfortable, leather chair, looking at her daughter. “It’s a bit big for him, since it was Medea’s, but we didn’t really have time to purchase anything for him. I still can’t believe that you’ve kept him. And not to mention said that to Melody’s daughter!”

Her mother was rambling. Again. Simone suppressed her eye roll. Of course she had said quite a few words to _Clarice._ The girl was being a bitch. Usually, Simone wasn’t that forward. She preferred to keep her thoughts what they were, thoughts. Yet, when the girl had begun assaulting the small kitten with such hurtful words, she couldn’t help herself. The poor animal didn’t even understand the girl’s hatred. It couldn’t even defend itself. Besides, it wasn’t like Simone was going to see Clarice much after the day before. She was moving two states away, to California. Hopefully, she would stay there until college. That hope was _not_ going to reach her mother’s ears.

“All set?” Mr. Jones had entered the car, buckling up. He looked into the back through the mirror. “Buckle up, daughter dear.” The man said jokingly, but it was an order. Simone felt her hands tremble, her fingers cold as ice as she buckled up, as her father requested. “Blast off!” Mr. Jones turned the car on, parking out in a smooth, fast motion. Like a pro, Simone smirked as her mother grabbed the door handle, her eyes wide. “Cath, darling, I remember that you like to drive fast, no?”

“No!” The woman shrieked, but it was too late. The Mitsubishi sped away from the calm, ordinary driveway. Simone stared out her window for as long as she could, looking at the normal house that she had been living in for more than seven years. She was going to miss it. They turned a corner and the familiar scene faded away from sight, into the teen’s memory.

* * *

They arrived to the airport just shy of Mr. Jones’s ‘an hour early’ rule. After Mr. Jones’s driving, which had stayed quite wild throughout their trip, the woman seemed even more shaken when they had left. As Mr. Jones passed the entrance ramp, found a spot and parked the Mitsubishi, Simone could see her mother counting off her mental list of things on one hand. As soon as the car came to a stop, Mrs. Jones shot out of her seat, patting her hair into its proper position and rushing towards the back door. She opened it and motioned for Simone go come out.

“Out. Out.” The woman ordered, her hand motions jerky with nervousness. Simone grabbed the cat carrier, causing the white fluff ball to meow pitifully in protest. She peered in as her mother headed for the trunk and saw the little guy with his legs spread wide, little claws out, tightly clutching the ‘potty pads’ which lined the carrier. His fur was sticking up and he obviously wasn’t liking all the moving and driving. Simone couldn’t imagine how he was going to behave on a plane.

“Calm down, little guy.” She cooed in a whisper. “You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” The kitten let out another meow, but kept hissing in displeasure.

“Simone, honey, hurry!” Mrs. Jones called out, pushing the cart with her daughter’s suitcases towards the tall, fancy building. Simone grabbed her backpack and slammed the door of the Mitsubishi, running to catch up with her parents while trying to keep the cat carrier steady.

“Easy on the car, daughter.” Mr. Jones had winced at the slamming of the door. “She’s sensitive.” He tapped a button on the car keys, locking it. Simone looked at her father, rolling her eyes at his obsession with his car. Mrs. Jones snorted in laughter in front of them. “Excited?” Mr. Jones asked, side-hugging his daughter with his bag-free hand.

“Terrified.” Simone replied under her breath, careful that her mother doesn’t hear. Mr. Jones laughed, patting her shoulder, but didn’t offer any words of comfort. Simone had a reason to be nervous. This would be her first trip alone, by plane, to a person she barely knew. Well, barely remembered.

Simone had taken a trip on her own some time ago, when she had been fourteen. She had gone to her grandmother’s by train. Thus her idea to travel by bus, the closest to what she knew. Of course, her mother had obsessed over that trip as well. Mrs. Jones had booked the ticket, helped her daughter pack, called her mother a dozen or so times and then begged the security at the train station to let her see her baby off to the compartment of the train, much to Simone’s utter embarrassment. But, despite the fact that the teen wanted to deny it, even now, she had been comforted by her mother’s overreaction. She hadn’t panicked that much on the train trip. Of course, she had had her grandmother waiting for her, just as the doors opened, not some unknown woman that she hadn’t seen in eleven years.

The glass doors of the airport building opened and the family rushed in, heading for one of the queues for luggage check-in. Mrs. Jones insisted on going all the way to the woman behind the counter with her daughter, gripping the teen’s arm in a bruising, vice grip. Mr. Jones stood back, outside of the blue line dividers. He had a smile on his face as he watched the back of his wife’s hair, ruffled by his rough driving.

“Hello, Miss.” The woman behind the counter greeted, Simone walking forward. The teen couldn’t collect herself enough to read and remember the nice lady’s nametag, as she usually did. Instead, she placed her passport and printout of her internet ticket, prepared all the way in the back of the queue, with frozen fingers.

“He-hello. How are you?” Simone’s voice was tiny and broke on the first line, causing the woman to smile gently at her.

“I’m good, and you?” She took the teen’s passport and ticket, clicking away on her computer. “Please place your baggage on the line.” Simone and Mrs. Jones hurried to comply, the latter mostly just waving her arms about uselessly.

“I’m fine, thank you.” The teen answered, remembering that she had been asked a question. The lady weighted her first suitcase (exactly 23kg, as allowed for free) and then plastered a stick on ticket on the handle, making the line move.

“Next suitcase.” Simone complied, the bag feeling heavy in her cold hands. “First flight?” The lady asked as she typed. Simone nodded shakily, her wavy hair slipping over her eyes. The teen brushed it back with trembling fingers. “No need to be so nervous, Miss Jones. It’s a short flight of about four hours.” The woman smiled over the counter. “You have a small stop in Phoenix, so make sure to ask one of the stewardesses where to wait for your next plane when you land.”

“Thank you very much.” Simone said, accepting the ticket and her documents back.

“Here.” The lady called out, giving her one of the stick-on tickets. Simone must’ve looked confused, as the woman elaborated. “For your kitten, she’s quite cute.”

“Thank you.” Simone said, sticking it on by autopilot. She didn’t even bother correcting the lady about the gender of her cat. The teen followed her mother shakily, looking much more composed that she was. Mrs. Jones seemed to be freaking out as much as Simone was feeling the nervousness. Mr. Jones awaited them with a casual smile, slipping an arm around his wife in an attempt to calm her down. She was still holding Simone’s arm in a vice grip, like the teen would get lost in the crowd any minute.

They reached the check-in in what seemed like mere minutes, and pretty soon, Mrs. Jones was arguing with the security man to let her see her daughter all the way through to the plane. Just as the woman was about to hex the middle-aged security guard, Simone touched her mother’s elbow.

“Come on, mom. That’s enough.” The teen tried to calm down the woman. Mrs. Jones shook off her daughter’s worried hand, raking her fingers through her hair.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” She said, leaving. Immediately, Simone felt the pressure on her bladder, like she had to go as well. Mr. Jones patted her messy hair, taking her attention away from the possibility of heading for the bathroom.

“She’s just nervous.” He said, smiling. “She’s never sent you off to anything like this.” It was in these times that Simone could see just how much her father loved her mother. His smile, at the woman’s freak out, like it was the most adorable thing in the whole wide world, Simone was so envious of it. She wanted someone to love her just like that. For her faults. For her quirks.

“She looks as nervous as I am.” Simone replied, pressing into her father’s side, gripping her passport and ticket in one hand and the handle of the cat carrier in the other.

“At least you’re covering well enough to get an Oscar.” Mr. Jones rubbed her shoulder with his hand. “I think poor Leo would be jealous.” The reference to Leonardo DiCaprio still having no Oscar, despite all the amazing movies that he had acted in cause Simone to let out a shaky laugh. “Remember the first day of high school?” Mr. Jones kept trying to make his daughter relax.

Simone belted out a loud laugh, causing a few people to turn and look at her. “How could I not? She walked me to my first class and then proceeded to stalk outside of the school!” The two laughed, remembering the incident.

As the laughter died down, Mr. Jones squeezed his daughter gently. “I’m going to miss you, my little Sabrina.” Simone couldn’t help her eyes stinging a bit as she teared up.

“Sabrina had terrible hair.” She murmured into her father’s shoulder, brushing her tears away when he wasn’t looking. She didn’t doubt that he knew, but he never called her out on it. Mr. Jones knew that his daughter wasn’t as tough as she pretended to be, but he always let her keep her front up.

“Alright.” Mrs. Jones’s voice cause the two to split up, Simone hurriedly making a decision and pushing her cat carrier and passport into her mother’s hands.

“Bathroom.” And the teen ran off, thinking how her mother had probably fixed her hair into the amazing updo that she had now by magic.

* * *

When Simone arrived back to her parents, her mother was a mess once again. She had recognized the state from afar, seeing as Mr. Jones had the cat carrier in his arms and Mrs. Jones had taken to pacing in front of him, asking questions every moment or so.

“Simone! Honey! Finally!” Her mother had regressed to one word sentences. This state was always bad. “I was just about to go find you. I thought, you might have gotten your period early,” Mr. Jones made a funny, borderline disgusted face, “ you know, from the stress. So, I was thinking, you didn’t pack any pads or painkillers into your carry-on. I don’t even know if they allow painkiller into your carry-on? What if your stomach starts hurting terribly? Oh, Goddess, what if you get diarrhea?” By the end of his wife’s rambling, Mr. Jones seemed ready to burst into laughter and roll on the floor shamelessly.

“I’ll be fine, mom.” Simone said, her lips twitching in a smile. “I just needed to pee. I’m all good now. And I do have a pad and some painkillers, they are allowed on the flight, I checked.” Her mother seemed to calm down a tad at the reassurance, but her father still looked ready to burst into laughter.

“Come here, honey.” Mrs. Jones grabbed Simone into a soul squeezing hug and didn’t let go until Mr. Jones coughed awkwardly. “Oh, sorry, you want to hug her, too, Sam.”

“No, Cath.” Mr. Jones smiled. “I would just like to keep her breathing.” He joked with his wife who looked in between bursting into tears or pacing nervously once more.

“And she would like to get on her plane in time.” Simone interjected, causing her father to laugh and her mother to offer a shaky, nervous smile. Mrs. Jones opened her mouth to, undoubtedly, give more babbling advice, but Simone cut her off with a quick hug, her own arms trembling. Obviously, she had inherited some of her mother’s ‘panic’ genes. “I know everything already. What I don’t, I won’t remember.”

And then Simone grabbed her cat carrier and passport, her blue backpack safely on her back and headed for the check-in. After she passed it and before she went around the corner, she turned to look at her parents one more time, at the last moment. Mr. Jones was there, in his old Denver Broncos hoodie and worn out jeans, looking nothing like the skilled lawyer he was. He was hugging his wife with one arm, like he often did, smiling happily. Mrs. Jones was shaking uncontrollably, her small, delicate fingers clutching at her mouth, the spark of her wedding ring shining in the bright airport lights. Her floral dress fell elegantly all the way to the floor, and she would’ve looked like a right lady, with her fancy updo and perfect make-up, had she not been so stressed.

Simone smiled wide, her nervousness vanishing for a couple of seconds and she gave her parents the brightest smile that she could muster. Despite all the arguments, she loved them both dearly.

“His name is Minuit.” She yelled, causing her mother to break down in sobs even more, her father the only thing holding her upright.

* * *

The rest of the trip had been uneventful. She had gone numerous times to the bathroom, mostly unnecessarily. She had been stopped a few times at check-in, to take her familiar out of his carrier so that it could pass the X-ray. She had needed to take off her Dr. Martens, because of their steel tips, showing her mismatched socks proudly. But, all in all, her fingers had remained icy from her nervousness the whole way, but she had kept her cool the whole way.

The stop in Phoenix had been rather uneventful. Simone had bought some tea from a nice young man at the airport and then proceeded to check the board for her connecting flight every two seconds. In the end, she had seated herself in front of it, just listening to her music and looking at the empty space next to her flight ID number. Occasionally, she would pat the little ball of fur, who had awoken as soon as they had landed.

He had been absolutely amazing on the plane. As soon as Simone had seated herself down next to a couple from Texas, the little kitten had fallen asleep and then dozed all the way through the two-hour trip. During their stop in Phoenix he had demanded a bit of attention and Simone had risked taking him out and giving him some food, all while soothing him with her voice. She didn’t dare attempt any magic in the open, both because she was at a public place and because she was less than untrained.

As the girl settled on her next flight, she had begun thinking of the name that she had given her familiar. It was well-known that the name of the familiar and its significance to the owner determined the power of the animal. Simone had chosen to name him Minuit, which meant midnight in French. That had been the name of the restaurant where her parents had met, in France and also the time when she had been born. Her mother had decided on her name based on one of the songs that was often played in the restaurant per her father’s request. It had been their song. Midnight meant a lot to her. It was her favorite time of the day and it had always been special.

So, if Minuit did become a familiar, which she still wasn’t certain of, she hoped that the connection and passion that she felt for his name would make him powerful.

The plane landed in Sacramento, CA, on time, and Simone headed for baggage claim, her nervousness taking over her once more. The woman that was waiting for her, Evangeline Forester, was her Godmother. She was an old friend of her mother’s, like a sister to Mrs. Jones, and she was, as you had probably guessed, a witch. Simone hadn’t seen her Godmother in eleven years, though.

She had vague memories of golden hair and coconut, along with laughter and a beautiful singing voice. Simone could remember the chocolate and the flying things about the house. But, nothing specific. Her Godmother was a Traditional witch, much like Simone’s grandmother. This had caused a bit of a rift in between her and Mrs. Jones some years ago, before the Jones family had moved to Colorado.

Long story short, Simone was going into an unknown house to an unfamiliar woman based on her dreamwalking. With a deep, shaky breath, the teen pulled her suitcases off the baggage carousel and packed them onto a cart with some difficulty. Lastly, she placed Minuit’s cat carrier on top and walked towards the exit.

The teen stopped before rounding the corner towards the waiting area. People walked fast around her, rushing to meet their loved ones. The young witch took a deep breath, calming herself down. Images of her dream flashed through her head. The fresh-smelling forest, trees and leaves all around her. The sound of running water to her left, like it was always in her dreams. The doe, jumping away on her long, elegant legs in fright. The Beacon.

An old lantern flashed through her mind, made of dark metal, curving in a beautiful way around a dancing ball of light that never stopped flickering with immense power. It filled her, called her, beckoned her to keep walking. And, Simone gave in.

She pushed her cart out of the doors, the suitcases making it rather heavy and looked around. The fresh air hit her like a ton of bricks, surprising her. For some reason, she had imagined Sacramento air to be just as dry as Denver air, just as full of exhaustion fumes. But, the air in her lungs was surprisingly warm, unlike the one at the airport, cooled by all the air conditioning machines. It was dry, but less than in Colorado. It was different. It was new. And it felt _good_.

Suddenly feeling much braver than before, Simone pushed her cart confidently forward, head held high. She forced the mental rehearsal of a hundred conversations with her Godmother to stop. She would face that when she found the woman. Which, she honestly hoped was soon.

The teen looked around, noticing all the signs that various people in the crowd were holding up. She didn’t see her name. Simone walked forward, still searching about, panic slowly creeping into her bones again. Then, a melodic voice called out to her.

“Simone?” And she was home.

**That’s all folks!**


	5. Homecoming

**Welcome!**

* * *

**My cast for this chapter is:**

**Evangeline Forester: Beth Riesgraf**

**Daniel King: Beau Mirchoff**

**And, as it used to be Simone Jones: Portia Doubleday**

**I hope that you guys enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Homecoming**

Simone turned around, but was wrapped in a tight hug of two strong, but thin arms before she could find the speaker. The scent of coconut and something flowery wafted her nose and enveloped her into a warm cocoon of 'safe'. The teen immediately relaxed.

"Simone." The melodic voice, somehow mystic to the ear, as the word was pronounced slowly, like a chant, sounded once more. "How you've grown."

And Simone finally looked at her Godmother. It was like a Disney Princess had met the 60s head on and decided to have a love child. The woman was slim, a little taller than the teen, and positively beautiful. Her Godmother had golden hair, which cascaded in careless waves down her back, shining healthily in the airport lights, undoubtedly causing all the nearby women to stare in jealousy. She was wearing one of those boho chic dresses, in brown, maroon and white, which fell to her lower thighs, showing off her long, toned legs and simple flats. There was a modern kimono that she wore over it, in one color, perfectly accenting her tiny, cinched by a belt, waist.

"Godmother." Simone squeaked, immediately blushing terribly. Her Godmother's pale cheeks lit up with red as well, but from a wide smile. She was wearing maroon lipstick. Simone could remember that lipstick from a long time ago.

"Oh, Simone!" The woman hugged her once more. When she let go, her deep brown eyes were still shining with affection and laughter. Simone truly wouldn't have been surprised if everyone at the airport suddenly burst into one of the Disney numbers. For example 'Be our guest'? Her Godmother certainly looked the part. Even the air around her looked like it would attract friendly forest animals to help with the tidying up at any moment. "Please, call me Eve, or Aunt Eve. Godmother makes me sound like a fairy, and I am anything but!" The woman laughed again, causing Simone to smile as well. It was impossible not to smile when the woman was laughing.

"OK." She murmured unsurely, beginning to fiddle with her passport.

After a moment of staring at her Goddaughter, Eve seemed to snap out of it. "Oh, Goddess, how silly am I!?" She exclaimed, another smile on her face. "This is Dan, my nephew." The woman introduced, showing the young man beside her with a flourish movement of her delicate hands. Simone noted the many bracelets and rings on them, which jingled pleasantly as she moved.

"Sup." Dan greeted, causing the teen to look up at him. Simone held in both her gasp and her blush. He was nothing short of gorgeous. Dan was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He had at least one head over Simone, causing her to have to tilt her neck a bit to look at his eyes. His hair was a messy, dark brown, almost black. It was longish and wild, but not in a way that you would suggest him a metalhead or anything. He was handsome, with his pronounced jaw and symmetrical features, wide shoulders and an olive green spitfire jacket. Simone didn't doubt that he was a right ladies' man. Damn, she thought as she was drawing into his striking green eyes, blinking a couple of time to be able to look away.

"Simone Jones." She extended her hand politely to the older guy. He couldn't have more than six years on her, she figured. He shook her hand, nodding.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Dan smirked. Great, Simone thought, he's caught her staring. "Only because you were practically shouting your thoughts at me." Simone's face got even redder than it had already been.

"Dan, we talked about this." Eve warned. "Simone has had no training, she can't help it." Then, she turned to her Goddaughter with another smile. "Don't take it personally, he is a bit on the nosy side with his newly developed telepathy skills."

Simone nodded, too embarrassed to speak. What does one even say to a guy whom she checked out a moment ago, practically out loud? Dan chuckled from his spot beside her.

"Don't worry about it." He said, patting her shoulder comfortably. "I'm still learning the skill, so I might be a bit on the nosy side." He explained. "Let me start over. Daniel King, enchanted." And the young man extended his hand. Simone gripped it this time, shaking it. She looked into his mesmerizing eyes with unusual confidence and smirked.

"I'm sure." And then they both laughed.

"Good. Good. You're bonding." Eve had grabbed the cart, pushing the luggage out of the airport. "You'll be living together, after all." And the unlikely trio left through the glass doors, into the open California air. It was a short walk down the parking lot, as Simone and Dan (who was, as Simone found out, not such a big jerk or flirt, but actually a fun guy) chatted about nonsense. By the time that they had reached the KIA Soul, in, you guessed it, maroon color, the two youths had become almost inseparable.

Eve clicked the car unlocked and walked to the back, where she pushed one of the back seats forward in order to create more space for the suitcases. Dan walked over, loading them in as the two women helped. Soon, the trio was shutting the trunk and Simone pushed the cart away, so that they could leave the parking. She went to get in the back, but Eve touched her arm gently.

"No, no. You take the front." Her Godmother said, smiling. "I'm a very boring co-pilot for Dan, he's always complaining how the only thing that I do is sleep. And the teen then climbed into the front seat, careful of the tall step into the KIA. Dan was already twisting the keys in the ignition, turning the car on as she buckled. He started moving the car backwards, just as Simone shut her door. The young man awarded her a wink and a smirk when she gave him an incredulous look. Eve laughed from the back seat.

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting, Simone thought as Dan shot out of the parking lot, way faster than even her father would approve of.

* * *

By the time they hit Yuba City, Eve was snoozing in the back seat rather adorably, her head wedged between the window and the car seat comfortably. Simone had caught her blowing on the glass and drawing a strange circular image in the condensation on the window before doing so, and she had figured that the woman had used a spell to make herself more comfortable.

By the time Dan passed through the first town in the Oroville area, Eve was dead asleep, lightly snoring in a very adorable way. Simone had been mostly silent, listening to the generic radio station that was playing. Dan looked in the back mirror, noticing Eve's state. He took his right hand off the wheel and fished out a small bag on a string which smelled of herbs, mostly sage. He handed it to Simone, eyes on the road constantly.

"Hang that on the little light there, would you?" Dan whispered, pointing at the back. Simone twisted in her seat, quickly finding the light on the roof of the car, along with a small handle that had obviously been added. She tied the bag there tightly and turned around. "Done?" The young man asked in his normal voice.

"Mhm." The teen answered, looking to the cat carrier which was at her feet. Dan had already expressed his love for cats and how he was ecstatic to see if the kitten would become a familiar or not.

"That's a silence charm, so that we can talk freely." He explained, rolling his window slightly to let the fresh air into the warm car. It whooshed through, unusually quietly. "As great as Aunt Eve is, she's a light sleeper and horrible in the morning. Do you have any questions about the Lighthouse?"

"Lighthouse?" Simone asked, bending to take Minuit out of the carrier and into her arms, as he meowed for the second time.

"I'm an idiot." Dan laughed. "Aunt Eve has an inn of sorts that she keeps. It's a large Victorian villa, and there are loads of guests coming in and out all the time. We have the top floor to ourselves, but the lower floors are for customers. I work there, as does Eve." He paused, as if waiting for a question. When Simone stayed silent, petting Minuit and listening intently, the young man continued. "The pay is pretty good and you can earn your keep without looking for a part time job. There are two computers, one in my and one in your room. But only one stereo system, so we can share it?"

"Sure, if I can have it on Fridays." Dan frowned.

"What's on Fridays?"

"Loud music from my room?" Simone countered, causing him to laugh. "I'm kidding. I don't really need a stereo, I have great headphones."

"But, what if you're playing a game?" Dan question again.

"I'm not much of a gamer…" The teen answered, shrugging. "They take up too much time."

"I will have to amend that." The handsome man grinned, speeding up a bit on the highway. "There's a rest stop near here, do you want anything? I need to get gas and something to drink."

Simone felt her head churning with options. She didn't want to eat anything from a rest stop, despite her disagreeing stomach. She was already barely fitting into her 'measure shorts'. Maybe she could drink something? But she would need to go to the bathroom later. And, who would pay for the thing? Her wallet was in her backpack, but she still needed to set up her bank account.

"No thanks." The teen politely refused, petting her cat. The KIA slid in between two trucks easily, stopping at a gas meter and Dan jumped out, grabbing his wallet in the process. He filled op the tank and then went inside to pay. Simone had just twisted the keys in the ignition and begun to change through the radio stations when he came back and plopped back into his seat.

"Here you go." He handed her a blue slushie, putting his pink one into the cup holder and buckled up. Simone held Minuit with one hand and the slushie with the other, confused. Dan slurped his through the straw, driving forward with his knees. He gave her a shrug. "You are neither fat nor do you need to worry about money. It's my welcome gift. And, if you need to pee, we'll make a stop before Beacon. But I doubt it, as we're pretty close."

Simone felt her cheeks heating up, but she managed to duck her head and simply slurp the blue, raspberry slushie. It was good. She hadn't had a slushie in ages. Minuit's pink tongue poked out and the small kitten licked the drops of water on the outside of the Styrofoam cup. The teen took another sip, smiling as a familiar intro came onto the radio. At the sound, Dan reached for the volume with his right hand and turned it up almost all the way, banging his head happily and causing Simone to giggle.

"Thunder!" He yelled along with the song. The witch began laughing, lowering her window as well and yelling along.

"Thunder!" Dan threw her a rather cocky smirk and then they sang (screamed) together as loudly as possible.

"I was caught in the middle of a railroad track!" Minuit jumped from Simone's lap, hiding back in his carrier as the song continued, the two youngsters laughing and singing as loudly as possible to the familiar lyrics of AC/DC.

Simone felt her previous anxiousness vanishing completely as she yelled along with Dan, this rather handsome young man who she had met hours ago. It was quite strange that she felt so secure, so comfortable with him, when she felt awkward around her own parents. Then again, she didn't really have anything to compare to. She had never had many close friends. Especially impulsive ones.

A slim hand full of bangles and rings reached forward in between the laughing youths, turning up the volume even more as the second song came on. Aunt Eve had taken off the silence charm and was now humming along with the intro of the guitar.

"Livin' easy. Lovin' free." She and Dan sang together as his fingers danced in rhythm along the steering wheel. For a moment, Simone stared, shocked and then, she managed to snap out of it, just in time to join them on the chorus.

"I'm on the highway to hell! On the highway to hell! Highway to hell! I'm on the highway to hell!" The trio yelled out, Dan's fingers dancing, Eve throwing her arms in an air guitar and Simone laughing uncontrollably while clutching her blue slushie as the KIA ran towards Beacon Hills.

Maybe, she had been anxious over nothing.

* * *

"So, I have already sent your transcripts to Principal Thomas." Eve chattered as Dan drove the maroon KIA further away from the small town which they had entered moments ago. "He's a nice man, single, very polite. You will like him."

Dan rolled his eyes as he drove, mouthing at Simone 'flirt'. The teen managed to suppress her laugh, but ended up smiling, still. "I'm looking forward to meeting him." She told her Godmother.

"If you'd like to, you can work at the Inn during the remainder of the vacation, get some pocket money?" Eve continued, her blonde head of perfect locks appearing in between the two seats as she looked back and forth between Dan and Simone. The front seat was enveloped in the scent of coconut and wildflowers.

"I already told her about it." The young man interjected. "Besides, she has _so_ much to learn about magic, as well." He continued, not allowing Simone to speak. Not that she wanted to. She was often shy and quiet with strangers, observing their dynamics first. Well, could she still call them strangers after screaming to AC/DC like they had before?

"Simone." Her Godmother caught her attention once more. "Have you been tested yet?" Dan's eyes flickered from the road to Simone.

The teen frowned. "Tested?" She wasn't sick. She wasn't HIV positive. Goddess, did they think that she had some form of a disease? What would she need to test anyways? Would it be painful? What if there was no cure!? What if it was a magical disease, one that couldn't be cured by human doctors?

"Woah! Woah!" Dan exclaimed, making Simone jump as he swerved on the road. "Would you stop shouting? We're not asking about a disease of any sort, calm down. She was asking if you've been tested on your affinity."

"My affinity?" Simone dumbly repeated, her cheeks red from her mental outburst.

"Your elemental affinity." Eve clarified. "Since you are choosing the path of a Crafter, you should know. Each Crafter has an element that chooses them, one that feels more natural, easy. Mine is air. Which means that I do much better with spells of its domain, for example flying." The woman explained, smiling.

"Knowing what your affinity is can be very useful once you start learning. You will know which spells you can do to their full capability." Dan spoke, turning right. "And, here we are." As the KIA went off the highway and onto the small forest road, Simone noticed that the trees were somehow becoming much more arranged, as if they had been told how to grow, positioned even.

A large house came into view, its four stories stretching high to the tops of the trees around it. It was like one of those houses that you saw in magazines, vintage, old and covered partially in ivy. The windows were tall, with many parts in them, separated by delicate looking wood. Their tall arches matched the one above the door, which was heavy, wooden and had a large door knocker. There were two stone lions sitting in front, guarding the Inn.

Dan parked the KIA in the front, just outside the small patio with a comfortable looking two-person swing. Simone realized that her hands had gone cold with anticipation once more, as she couldn't wait to explore the house and its surroundings.

"C'mon, little guy." She placed Minuit gently into his carrier and then unbuckled and exited the car. The kitten let out a pitiful meow of protest, not liking the movement. "I'm sorry, I'll let you out soon. I promise."

Simone grabbed her backpack from the back seat and walked towards the trunk where Dan had already unloaded her suitcases. Eve bent towards them, whispering something and then, she placed a tiny flower from her hair onto the suitcases.

"Shall we?" Dan asked, smiling and gesturing towards the door. Simone was about to come with him, when she remembered that Eve was a slight woman. She couldn't possibly carry the suitcases on her own!

"Sure, but just a-" Simone turned, only to see her Godmother following her with only the red purse that she had had before in her hand. The suitcases were gone. "What the-" The teen began, her eyes widening.

"Magic." Godmother Eve smiled, wiggling her fingers about. As Dan entered the Inn (the front door was unlocked for some reason), Simone began looking about in wonder. If she hadn't known any better, she would've said that JK Rowling had come to the Lighthouse Inn to get her inspiration for Hogwarts.

"I had no idea that magic could be used like that." Simone slowly commented on her Godmother's earlier trick, causing the woman to laugh and continue talking about the spells that she could teach the teen. But, the young witch was lost in looking.

There were colorful tapestries on walls, paintings of beautiful women and men, old, metal lanterns here and there, now lit with light bulbs instead of fire. All the furniture was old, in dark wood, undoubtedly protected by magic. The rugs on the floor were impossibly soft, even under Simone's shoes. The stairs which lead straight up immediately drew her attention, but Dan and Eve had gone right, so she followed.

She found the two in a kitchenette and living room, surprisingly modern, with its back wall made entirely of a glass sliding door. Eve had gone over to it, sliding it open and letting the air in. Simone noticed the small wooden patio in the back along with a vast garden, separated by a carefully trimmed hedge. Her mother would've been green with envy.

"My small obsession." Eve laughed when she noticed the young witch staring. "I find it very relaxing to work in the garden, despite the fact that I don't have an earth affinity. Unlike your mother." Eve smiled, giving Simone a side hug, her scent of coconut wrapping around the teen in a warm cocoon. "Now, Cathy could grow anything anywhere."

"Hungry?" Dan called, causing Eve and Simone to breakaway, heading towards him. He had pulled out ingredients for sandwiches from the large fridge and was quickly making them. "You aren't a tree-hugger, are you?" The warlock asked.

"They're called vegetarians, Daniel." Eve corrected, taking a banana from the fruit basket and leaving for the wooden patio outside. Simone noted that she had lost her flats somewhere along the way.

"She's a tree-hugger." Dan whispered accusingly, nodding towards Eve.

Simone chuckled. "I eat meat." She took some of the ingredients that Dan wasn't using, immediately taking a piece of ham to give Minuit.

"Good, otherwise I would've disowned you right away." Dan told her. "You can let him out, you know." Simone unlatched the metal door of the cat carrier, allowing the little kitten to stumble out. "Here." Daniel reached over, swiftly grabbing the soft neck fur of the cat and lowering him to the floor. "Off he goes." The handsome young man commented as the white fur ball scampered off towards the stairs.

"Ah!" Simone rushed around the counter to race after the kitten, but Daniel stopped her with an offhanded wave.

"Don't bother." He chuckled. "He can roam wherever he wants." Simone nodded, slipping back into quiet. She walked around the spacious living room as Daniel fumbled behind the counter with the sandwiches. The carpet was cream and soft under her favorite Dr. Marten's and Simone briefly wondered if she should've taken them off. Her gaze slipped over the sofa chairs and the couch, which all looked quite welcoming. There were old, wooden cabinets, stacked with different antiques lining the walls. She gently touched a small figurine of a man on a horse, his sword raised. "You like him?"

Dan appeared behind her with a plate of food. Simone turned with a polite nod. She took the sandwich and quickly bit into it. The awkwardness in the pit of her stomach had returned once more. She really hated that part of her. It was like she would be thrown into an endless labyrinth of self-doubt that she could never leave. She would re-think her words a dozen times before speaking them and then curse herself for saying those exact ones. With painful realization, she was hit with the truth like with a bus.

She had just moved in with complete strangers.

"Well, supposedly he was a suitor of Aunt Eve's great-great-grandmother." Daniel spoke breaking her from her melancholic and self-destructive thoughts. "But, she was a witch who was completely in love with a local fisherman. The soldier found out and made fun of the commoner, saying that he was unworthy of such a lady, as the Foresters were quite wealthy. After he tried to duel the fisherman for the woman's hand, she intervened. As revenge, she cursed the soldier into an ornament, so that he would see her everlasting happiness with his own eyes." The young man made his voice grave, like he was telling a horror story. "Of course, this is just a family legend. It's not true at all."

Simone nodded. "Imagine what kind of magic you would need to turn someone into a metal ornament." She said in a far-off, thoughtful voice. There was a moment of complete quiet as the two just looked at the man on the horse.

"Well, now that we're done contemplation highly unlikely doable spells, shall I show you your room?" Daniel's arm came to rest on Simone's shoulder and the teen jumped. She nodded, swallowing the last of her sandwich quickly. "This way." The handsome youth led her out of the living room and towards the staircase. "Here." He took her empty plate and passed it onto the countertop. "I'll take care of that later."

The stairs that lead upwards were wooden and nothing short of beautiful. They were spacious, so that at least two people could walk side by side easily. If her mother were here, she would've already planned out where to put which potted plant. Mrs. Jones had, after all, filled their own house with different flowers. Each window had to have a pot, or she wasn't calm. Simone noticed the decorative carvings on the hand holders, which were made of a different wood.

"We had to put those there a couple of years ago." Dan explained once he noticed her curious look. She must've stared, Simone scolded herself and avoided looking around, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself. Her hands had gone cold from her nervousness already. She hated that part of herself. Simone really did.

You see, despite being quite a pretty girl, in an objective way, Simone Jones suffered from a thing that a lot of girls in the twenty-first century did, especially those in high school. Low self-esteem. She would change at least a dozen times before leaving her room. Or, she would check the number of a service that she was calling a couple more times that necessary. Or, she would simply go cold and numb in a situation where she was supposed to speak to a stranger. This, coupled with her self-consciousness about her appearance brought her into a lot of awkward situations.

"Here we are." Daniel had led her all the way to the top floor of the house, showing her a wooden door on the end of the hallway. With a tentative hand, aware that the older boy was watching her every move, Simone pushed the door open.

**That's all for now folks!**


	6. Settling in

**I hope that you enjoy the new chapter :)**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Settling in**

"Thank you for taking me." Simone repeated for the third time as Dan stared out at the road and drove. He laughed a bit, taking his eyes off the way to glance at her.

"It's not a problem, like I said before." He told her, focusing on the road once more. "I'm just glad that we managed to catch the little guy." He chuckled as Minuit gave a meow, as if he understood that their conversation was about him.

Simone had remembered the words of Dr. Torrez, the vet from Denver, how she needed to get the kitten checked out when they landed. So, she'd forced herself to ask Dan to take them to the closest vet. The older boy had been more than happy to oblige, chattering about Dr. Deaton and how he was a great vet.

Of course, there had come the other part of the problem. Minuit was off exploring the house somewhere, so Dan and Simone has spent two hours hunting the mischievous cat. Even now, the small ball of fur looked rather smug with his clumsy, yet successful escapes. In the end, they had found the kitten sleeping on the sofa in the living room, curled up next to Aunt Eve, unbothered by their frustration.

Dan made a turn and left the main road, going into the small town that was Beacon Hills. "That's the Beacon Hills Memorial hospital." He pointed out as they passed the modern building. "Next to it is a care center for patients with permanent conditions. I know that they are always looking for more caretakers, if you're interested." He told Simone as she turned in her seat to get a better look at the passing buildings.

Frankly, she wasn't too keen on the idea of working in a hospital. There were simply one too many deaths around you, not to mention people with incurable diseases. This led her to want to use her magic to help them, which she was forbidden from doing. It had been one of the greatest rules that Mrs. Jones had forced upon her. Never, ever, expose your gift. Especially in the presence of doctors.

When she had been younger, she hadn't understood the rule. Heck, she had tried to break it numerous times. But, after her mother had caught her attempting to heal her friend's broken leg, Mrs. Jones had beaten some sense into her. Since then, Simone had learned to avoid hospitals.

"Well, you won't have a lot of places to steer clear of." Dan smiled as he read her thoughts, once more. "We have only a couple of hospitals, the closest is the Beacon Memorial, the one we just passed." Simone frowned, not replying. His ability was annoying, to say the least. She had spent the afternoon with Dan, who was quite a nice person, of course, when he wasn't reading your every thought. She understood that it wasn't his fault. If it were her, it would've probably been even worse. But still. She didn't need anyone replying to her inner feelings. Even worse, a handsome older guy.

"Anyways." Dan awkwardly commented, tapping the wheel with his fingers. "You'll be going to Beacon High. I went there as well, so most of the teachers are still the same. Which subjects will you be taking?" He really was trying to change the subject and steer her thoughts away from the earlier, rather humiliating, track.

"I want to take Advanced Lit and French." Simone said, turning away from the window to look at Dan. He kept his eyes on the road, but he nodded. "Economics, too."

Dan laughed. "I'm not sure who teaches Lit anymore. It used to be Mrs. Bellows, a really boring old lady who would fall asleep in class and quote Shakespeare all the time." His nose scrunched up in distaste. "She smelled like old people. It was mildly disgusting." Simone chuckled, putting her hand on her mouth to stifle it. "Don't laugh! She put me in the front row… I hope it's someone a little better now." The KIA took a right turn, causing Minuit to dig his tiny claws into Simone's thigh. "As for French, it's still Mr. Beauchamp. He's a good teacher, you're going to have fun. He makes students act out different plays in French a lot. It's a cool class."

"I took only one year of French back home, do you think that will be enough?" Simone asked, getting a tad worried. Language wasn't her best subject. She tended not to remember the grammar and just rely on her 'feeling'. She preferred math. Math was easy. It was logical.

"Sure, just don't take French four or anything." Dan advised. "Start with French two or something and if it's too easy, ask to switch." The warlock shrugged. "The guidance counselor for sophomores is pretty cool. She came in my senior year, I remember that all the boys were lining up to get some counseling." Dan laughed, clearly remembering his time at school. "She's gonna give you good advice, so don't hesitate to ask her about anything that you need."

The KIA made a couple more turns before coming to a stop at a parking lot. Simone scooped Minuit into her arms and unlocked the door. "You're not going?" She asked Dan once he didn't make a move to follow her.

The older boy shook his head and shrugged. It sent his messy hair into a wild frenzy of dark locks. "You'll be just fine in your own." He smiled in encouragement. "Simone-" He called out before she could shut her door. Once the teenage witch focused on him Dan gave her a grin and spoke in a serious tone. "Don't mention magic."

Simone gave an affirmative nod and closed the door softly. Why in the world would she mention magic? To a vet of all people? She knew what that sort of honest talk would get her in this date and time. Instead of a stake and a fire, she would get a straitjacket and a one way trip to the loony bin.

Simone noted the open sign on the vet's door before she pushed in open. The inside was clean, white and sleek. She could smell the dog and cat food from the back, along with a distinct hospital smell of cleaning supplies. Minuit gave a small sneeze into Simone's elbow before meowing softly. She looked down to see him snuggle further into her embrace. Obviously, he didn't like the vet's office too much.

"Hello." A soft male voice greeted, somehow comforting. Simone glanced up to see the dark skinned man in a white coat. He offered her a wide smile, showing his white teeth. "How can I help you?" _Dr. A. Deaton_ was written on his pocket.

"My kitten just travelled by plane, and the vet back home told me to get him checked out when we land. I was hoping that you could take a look at him?" Simone walked over, detaching the small feline from her sleeve, where it was clinging with its tiny claws, and handed it over to the vet. "He was a bit ill before we left."

"Oh, he's a beautiful one. He's going to grow into a quite lovely cat, don't you think?" Dr. Deaton smiled, stroking under the kitten's head and causing him to purr with joy. "What's the handsome boy's name?"

"Minuit." Simone smiled as the doctor played with the interactive cat. "Midnight in-"

"French." The vet placed Minuit on his office desk, instead of taking him into the back. The kitten began sniffing around. "That's a good name. Has he eaten yet?" Dr. Deaton wondered.

"Yes. I gave him a piece of ham when we arrived from the airport and then he ate his cat food a couple of hours later." Simone listed off, twisting her fingers nervously in front of her. They were cold once more.

"I see. Which brand of food do you feed him?" Dr. Deaton asked, taking the kitten up in his arms and checking it over carefully.

"I try to buy Orijen whenever I can." The teen replied. "But it really depends. Right now I'm giving him Orijen. He really loves it."

"I bet." The vet nodded. "Orijen is one of the five best brands for cat food. It's a great choice." Dr. Deaton handed the feline back, smiling. He searched through his desk and then passed a treat to the cat. "Here you are, you handsome boy." Minuit sniffed the piece of meat before licking it slowly, as if he was afraid to take it. Then, he snatched it from the vet's fingers, eating it quickly. Both Simone and the vet laughed when Minuit went back to the black man's fingers, looking for more. "You like that, don't you?"

"Thank you so much." Simone said politely to the vet, pulling Minuit further into her arms so that he wouldn't jump at Dr. Deaton for more treats. "How much do I owe you?" The teen dug into the back pocket of her skinny jeans, fishing out her wallet.

Dr. Deaton waved her hand away. "Nothing." He told her. "Just come back here when he needs his shots." The vet smiled when he saw the blush on the teenager's face.

"Thank you." Simone said once more, and then waved goodbye to the friendly man, leaving the office. She didn't notice the way Dr. Deaton walked to the door and watched her as she ran back to the maroon KIA. Nor did Simone see the way Dan looked at the vet, locking eyes with him in a silent warning. The teenage girl hopped into her seat, looped the seatbelt safely around herself and then smiled at her warlock driver, ready for the second part of the car tour of Beacon Hills.

* * *

Dan had taken the long way back to the Lighthouse Inn, showing Simone the high school that she would be attending that fall. It was a regular school, similar to her old one in Colorado, and it didn't instill much joy into the young witch. Rather, it reminded her of all the insecurities that came with everyday attendance. This made Simone, just like any other teenager, enjoy her short vacation even more.

Eve was waiting for them in the kitchenette when they arrived, and she called out to the two right away. Dan entered the room first, without any reservations, plopping onto the comfortable pale sofa like he owned it. Simone came after, loitering at the corner of the counter awkwardly, not really sure what to do with herself. Minuit had bounded off as soon as he was allowed, eager to explore the large villa. It had tons of nooks and crannies that the kitten found rather amusing.

"What's up?" Dan asked, looking at Eve from his position. She walked over to the sofa as well, placing three cups of fresh juice on the table.

"Simone." The blonde witch gestured and the teen sat next to Dan, fidgeting with her long hair. "Alright." Eve smiled. "I know that you're tired, but we will try and be quick, ok?" After a small nod from the teenage witch, she continued. "As you know, Beacon Hills is quite a popular place for the supernaturals, so, we have a few rules that keep us safe. I need you to follow them, alright?"

"Of course." Simone repeated the familiar sentence.

"Firstly, we are neutral." Eve's voice became grim and serious, unlike her usual, cheerful tone. "We do not get involved into other species business. We don't even get involved into witchy business if possible, alright?" After Simone gave a small nod, Eve continued. "I'd you must break this and use your gift, you should only do it in a life or death situation. Clear?"

"Y-yes." The teen stammered, a little shocked. Mrs. Jones has rules. They had been different. Numerous and different. Most of them were concerning magic and how Simone shouldn't use it before joining a coven. But, this was different. This rule actually made sense to the witch. She could keep it. And more importantly, it sounded like it was actually life or death.

"Next, there should be at least one spell used per day." Dan continued, smiling.

"And lots of chocolate should be eaten before dinner." Eve grinned as well, and they both began giggling uncontrollably at Simone's shocked expression. She honestly couldn't believe it. Magic. She was going to be using magic freely. You see, Simone thought that being a witch was utterly amazing. And, as a proper witch, she wanted to use her magic, just like she had seen her mother do numerous times. However, it had been forbidden in the Jones house.

Here, at the Lighthouse Inn, with her Godmother Eve and the strange, yet friendly, warlock Dan, Simone had gotten her wish. It was something that she had begged for every single Christmas. Simone felt a smile stretch on her mouth, so wide that it became painful on her cheeks. She could tell by the heat that she was blushing as well.

"Oh, so you _can_ smile!" Dan remarked, giving her a loose side hug. "Isn't she adorable when she smiles?" Simone's face got even redder at the words and she cursed her paleness.

"Don't tease her, Daniel." Eve reprimanded in a stern tone. "You must be tired, Simone." The blonde said, smiling. "Why don't we grab some dinner early so that you can rest?" She didn't let the teenager answer, but hopped up, nodding to herself. "And then tomorrow, we can tell you more about the Inn and what we do here, and we could also go to the Beacon High and get you all settled in there?"

Simone awkwardly kept quiet, listening to Eve ramble about what she had planned for her Goddaughter. She was twirling a piece of her long hair, a nervous habit which she had developed back in elementary school. Daniel, though, seemed rather amused by the fact that the teenage witch was uncomfortable. Simone was getting used to his personality, and there were some parts that really got on her nerves.

"C'mon." Dan chuckled, obviously catching her train of thought. "Let's set the table."

* * *

A deep breath. And then another. The smell of fresh leaves and morning rain was strong in my lungs as I became aware of my surroundings. They were familiar in an eerie, illogical way. Hard branches and soft leaves brushed against my bare legs as I walked. No doubt, they would leave marks. I knew my skin. It was painfully pale, so every single scratch would leave an angry, purple bruise in the morning.

A twig cracked somewhere to my left and suddenly, my groggy body could pick up the sound of the nearby stream. The wind was soft and warm, passing through my hair and knotting it. I was numb. Like I had been drinking or as if I had consumed one too many painkillers. I was vaguely aware of the fact that my legs were taking me in a certain direction.

Beautiful, large eyes. The color of caramel. I stared, and she stared back. The doe which had been here before. I had been here before. I knew this place. My dizzy mind caught up with the current state and I felt like I was suddenly awake in a body which was asleep. My mind was clear.

The doe bundled off, but I didn't follow her. My legs were taking me somewhere else. I knew where. I was going to the Beacon. To the Lantern. To the Center. To the Core.

Cold dread seeped through my body, as if my magic itself was telling me to run. To gain control. To be stronger. To get away. Yet, I couldn't. The sleep-like state that dreamwalking was didn't allow for any control. I knew that.

After my first dream I had panicked badly. I had called my grandmother, the guru of all things magical, and demanded her help. She had instructed me how and where to find books on the subject in my mother's library. After that, I had become thoroughly informed about dreamwalking. Dreamwalking would give me knowledge and signs that I wouldn't have otherwise to prevent or change a great event in my future, but, it would take away my control.

I remember that. The first rule of magic. _Everything has its price._ If one is not careful, they are dead.

My feet stopped in front of a familiar stump. I stared at it with my numb, sleepy eyes, waiting. Waiting for the lantern to appear. Waiting for it to call to me. I knew what came next. And, for that _long_ second, it felt like the tree stared right back. Its gaze, its insight into my person, it wasn't friendly at all. It was a glare of a giant, ancient being, something that I wouldn't be able to fathom even if I lived a thousand years. It crawled under my skin and took me apart from the inside, knowing everything that there was to know about a little, insignificant Crafter that I was.

I fell apart.

* * *

A soft meow and a lick of a kitten's rough tongue woke Simone up. She gasped, sitting up, her panicked breathing speeding up her heart and sending heat to every part of her body. There had been no light this time. There had been no shine. No Lantern. Did she not need a guide anymore? Well, she had arrived to Beacon Hills. Maybe it wasn't calling her to it per se? Maybe there was something else to the dreams? Something that _it_ wanted.

She remembered Mrs. Jones's panicked look when she had first found out about her daughter's nighttime adventures. The usually tan and smiling woman had looked as pale as her child, ready to pass out. Maybe there had been something to her mother's paranoia? Perhaps she had written it off too soon as the normal babbling which her mother did on a daily basis.

Simone patted Minuit, who was squirming in her lap, trying to gain her attention. The little one had woken her up. With one glance at her phone, she noted the time. Midnight. She had only been asleep for a couple of hours. Minuit gave a quiet meow, making Simone look at him once more. She had stopped petting him and he was squirming once more, to get just the right friction across his fur.

"In a little bit, you small menace." The witch told the kitten, placing him on the empty space of the bed between her and the wall. She slid out of the light, cotton sheets which smelled comfortingly of jasmine and cinnamon. The window was open, a slow breeze lazily drifting in. It was warm and soft, like a caressing hand. Simone slid her feet to the cool floor, which didn't have a carpet, but was instead made of polished wood, and headed to the large window. It didn't have a seat in it, like the one at home, and she missed it. She loved sitting in that place.

Her breathing slowed down and she calmed as she remembered when her grandmother was still allowed to come to the Jones house. They would sit in the window, her grandmother holding her in her lap, as she told her stories of different ancient witches and warlocks and how they became infamous in the Wizarding history. She had spent her childhood wishing that she could be as brave as Jeanne D'Arc or as beautiful as Helen of Troy. Simone had wanted to be as powerful as Merlin and as clever as Leonardo Da Vinci.

Something flickered in the woods that she could see outside her window and the breeze turned cold. Simone pulled back, icy terror spreading through her body, and she closed and latched her window with trembling fingers. Her hands were shaking as she fiddled with the oversized shirt that she used as her PJs. Her heart was beating a mile an hour and she could feel it. It wasn't a dreamwalk this time. This time, she could clearly feel it.

The cold, ancient pressure, coming at her straight from the woods. Staring into her soul. Stripping her bare and ripping her apart at the seams. Panic overtook the young witch as she moved back, her eyes darting back and forth through the woods, searching for the flickering. She couldn't find it. She couldn't find it. She needed to see it again. Simone reached out for the window again, reaching for the latch, when a soft meow interrupted her.

She turned to see Midnight, sitting on the bed, staring at her. The kitten was still, completely, as if it were made of stone. Its baby blue eyes, which still hadn't changed to their adult color, were focused on her, making her, in exchange, focus on them. And the scent of lavender and cinnamon filled her nose once more, taking her back into the warmth of the room, instead of the cold terror of the ancient stare from her dreamwalk.

She was safe. A soft chime came from the hallway and Simone clicked the unlock key on her phone, looking at the time.

00:01

Only one minute had passed. Still trembling with the aftermath of adrenaline, the teenage witch stumbled to her Dr. Marten's and slipped into them, the familiar weight and clanking as she walked comforting.

"Let's get something to drink, Midnight." She cooed to her kitten, which was now licking its paws. Simone briefly wondered if she had imagined the calm and wise cat which had broken her earlier fright. Maybe she had. "C'mon." As soon as the teen opened the door, turning the light on her phone on, the kitten followed her soundlessly and the two crept into the hallway.

The villa was dark, without a single light on, and quiet in a very eerie way. But, it wasn't creepy. It was calm. If you've ever been to a graveyard at night, you might relate the feeling. Now, it wasn't like that haunted graveyard that you're thinking of. Far from that. It was that calm, cool one, filled with your loving ancestors and kind strangers and neighbors. The feeling that you'd get as the sun set and the night came was peace, simply, genuine peace. You wouldn't be scared of a single zombie in that graveyard.

Simone padded across the wooden floors, quickly choosing to walk along the middle, as it was the only carpeted part. The fabric was narrow, simply a path. She recognized the origin of it, Turkish. The designs showed different symmetrical flowers and swirls in red, black, brown and orange. They were nothing short of breathtaking.

The young witch and her white kitten glided down the wooden stairs easily. Simone slowed down only on the first floor, where she had remembered there to be a couple of creaky steps. Minuit had bounded off, stopping a little ways down and waiting for his mistress. Soon, she, too, had followed.

The kitchen was empty when they reached it, completely in the dark. Simone clicked the small cooking light above the stove on, and the teen opened the fridge next, looking for the fresh orange juice. Eve wouldn't buy it at the market. Instead, she would get oranges and then make juice from those with a little bit of honey. Smiling, Simone sipped some. Her grandmother would approve. She always told Simone how you could tell that one was a true Crafter by their everyday life. And Eve was, in every single aspect that Simone had had the chance to see, a true traditional Crafter.

The teenager noticed that Minuit was brushing against her legs, seeking attention. She opened the fridge once more, lowering a piece of ham onto the floor. As she absent mindedly watched her pet eat with gusto, Simone smiled. The dinner which she had shared with Dan and Eve had been lively and comfortable.

The Jones family sometimes had dinner together, when Mr. Jones could make it on time. While he was working a case, he often tended to obsess over it. That made him a great lawyer, but a terrible husband. Of course, he came home with apologies. He tried to fix it all the time. But, both Simone and Mrs. Jones knew, there was nothing to fix. That was simply how he was. That was life.

Hence, the Jones family sometimes had dinner together, and it would be filled with tiny arguments. Whether it was about Mr. Jones discussing his case at the table, which could get pretty graphic, or Mrs. Jones making a 'helpful' comment about her daughter's weight and dressing style, the small quarrels were present.

Dan and Eve were different. They were a completely unexpected and widely dysfunctional, but quite endearing family. After observing them almost the whole day, Simone knew to expect an occasional teasing from Dan or a ramble from her Godmother. The blonde witch had spent the evening telling their new family member embarrassing stories about Dan's time at high school, when he had first arrived in Beacon Hills. Simone had thought that the handsome warlock couldn't get any more attractive, but seeing him try to hide his blush was positively adorable. Of course, he had picked up on her thoughts and defended himself out loud, causing Eve to continue her teasing. Simone could see where he had picked up the trait quite easily.

"I think I'm going to enjoy Beacon Hills, Midnight." She told her kitten, smiling to herself.

**That's all folks!**


	7. Kawasaki Ninja

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 7: Kawasaki Ninja**

Simone hopped out of the tub grinning to herself. Today was going to be a good day, she could tell. The teenager then brushed out her hair and braided it loosely, before wrapping a towel around herself. She had found out in the last couple of days that Dan rose pretty early and then liked to snooze his alarm downstairs as he dozed off on the sofa in the living room. Eve got up even earlier, as she enjoyed watching the sunrise while she did yoga on the patio out back. So, as the guests never wandered upstairs, Simone could simply wrap a towel around herself and run to her room, without taking her clothes with her.

She quickly padded to her room, opening and closing the door as fast as possible. Minuit sat on her bed, giving her a rather unimpressed face. Her kitten was a peculiar one, but cute none the less. The teenager walked to her new wardrobe and opened it. She easily chose an outfit. A simple white shirt and denim overalls. The shirt was a pretty tight fit, but the jeans were rather loose, just the way she preferred them. On her feet, as always, went her precious Dr. Marten's.

The room which Dan and Eve, but mostly Dan, had prepared for her wasn't too big. It was just the right size, with a large window looking out at the back of the villa. But, even though she could perfectly see the beautiful garden that had Godmother took care of, she could also see the woods of the preserve on the right. They stretched all the way out to the tall Californian mountains, which were but a speck and a shadow in the distance on a clear day.

When Daniel had showed her the room, she had been quite astonished. It was far bigger than her old room, which had barely fit all the furniture that her mother had packed into it. This one was rather spacious. Like all rooms at the Inn it had a high ceiling, which was common for old Victorian houses. The walls were white, but they had wallpaper plastered carefully on them, showing a red and black flower pattern. Simone would've preferred them to be blue, but she didn't mind the striking colors, as they had faded quite a bit with time.

The wardrobe was large, made out of dark wood, the same as the floors, and it had numerous carved knobs which opened different parts of it. Simone hadn't unpacked all of her things yet, but most of her clothing had found its place on the shelves already. There was a desk next to the window, which reminded Simone of the old desk from her father's office, which he had inherited from his grandfather. Surprisingly, the rest of the items in the room were quite modern, just like the furniture in the kitchenette and living room. The bed was positioned against the wall, with bookshelves above it. Simone could see the door from there. The bed also had a small hole in the side, where the witch figured a drawer for sheets had been. It was now fashioned into a small alcove with soft padding underneath and a couple of cat toys. Dan had excitedly pointed it out to her, asking if it was fine that he had added it.

Other than that, the room was rather plain, similar to the other rooms of the villa, which were often rented out for travelers. Eve had told her that since the Foresters witches were quite an old and famous family, there were a lot of supernaturals staying at the Inn. Her Godmother had warned her not to get too noisy or too involved in their business, as it was often quite unorthodox. Simone had noticed only a couple of guests during her short stay at the Lighthouse Inn. A lone Asian woman with long, glistening hair and rather stern features, who sometimes chatted with Aunt Eve out on the patio, drinking tea. There had been a couple on the second floor, as well. A handsome man in his forties and a meek woman with hair as red as fire. But, they had quickly left. The other guests were very ordinary, even Simone could tell that they weren't a part of the supernatural world.

She had asked Dan one time about the three guests that she had noticed. They had been driving back from Beacon High, where she'd just registered her classes. He had given her a serious look and reminded her that the Foresters did not get involved in any supernatural nonsense. But, Simone had been troubled on the way back by thoughts of those three so much, that the handsome warlock had caved. He'd told her that the couple were druids from Europe, who had come to pray at the Sacred Root for their sick child. He had also told her that he thought that the man wasn't what he was saying, and that he was probably a werewolf and not a druid. Then, Dan had told her that the Beacon Hills were the territory of the Hales, and that it was quite common knowledge that a werewolf shouldn't trespass on their property. This had led into a long explanation about Talia Hale and her work on the peace between species, which Eve had wholeheartedly supported. Then, of course, came the tragic story of the fire some years ago, and the lone survivors of the horror, the eldest Hale siblings, Laura and Derek. During Dan's wild story, and boy did he have a gift for storytelling, Simone had utterly forgotten about the stern Asian woman that was staying at the Inn.

The teenage witch walked into the kitchen, closely followed by her kitten. Minuit rushed for his bowl of food out at the patio, which was full of some of the other treat that Eve spoiled him with.

"Good morning." Simone greeted the group of guests who were sitting at the table, eating their breakfast.

"Hello, Simone." The only kid in the group greeted eagerly, and the others followed suit. He was a couple of years younger than Simone, a cute kid named Thomas, who was traveling with his parents. "Anything planned for today? I was thinking of going out to the preserve and checking out the birds again. If you're free, do you want to come with?"

And, surprisingly to Simone, he was quite smitten with the young witch. If she were being honest, he was quite annoying with his childish attempts to woo her. Sure, it was flattering, as Simone almost never received this sort of attention, but it was bothersome. She had been successfully avoiding him for the last three days.

"Sorry kid." Dan's familiar voice came from behind her and an arm swung across her shoulders. "She's mine today."

"Well, maybe tomorrow?" Thomas didn't give up.

Simone gave an awkward smile. "Maybe." She agreed, mentally thanking Dan, fully aware that he could hear her. The warlock gave a grin to the young guest before pulling the witch away. They stumbled out, Dan wheezing with laughter.

"Persistent little fellow, isn't he?" The warlock teased, leading Simone towards the right, instead of the small parking space on the left of the property.

"We aren't taking the KIA?" The witch chose to take the higher road, as usual. Dan was quite childish with his teasing, as she had found out, and once he got going, he didn't really know how to stop. The key was to cut him off in the beginning.

"I don't think that I'm _that_ bad." Dan commented, letting go of the teenager so that he could pull of a protective plastic sheet off of something.

Simone gaped. It was a bike. A red and black, sleek and utterly beautiful motorcycle. She stared. Her jaw had probably hit the floor, as well. It wasn't a Harley, she could tell that much, but it was impressive none the less.

"Wow." Simone managed to gasp out.

"So you like her, then?" Dan grinned, going behind Simone to push her forward. "She's not the best out there, but she's the best that I could afford. Not to mention that I've made some adjustments as well."

"It's beautiful." The blonde witch slid her fingers across the surface of the bike, feeling the sleek metal. It didn't have even one scratch on it. Obviously, Daniel loved it very much.

"She. Not an it. That's my girl." The warlock frowned a bit. Well, that was familiar, Simone smiled as she circled the bike. Boys and their toys. Mr. Jones was the same way about his Mitsubishi, cleaning it whenever he caught the chance. "Her name's Tomoe and she is a Kawasaki Ninja."

Simone looked up from the bike, grinning at the warlock. "You, Daniel King, are a complete nerd."

* * *

It had taken her about until the end of the short dirt road to get comfortable on the new mode of transportation, and in the first kilometer of the highway she was begging her driver to go faster. Dan, even though she couldn't see it, grinned like a little kid on Christmas, before stepping on the gas and allowing the sport-tourer to soar like it could. He held back a little on the speed, going a moderate pace even for a two person ride, as Simone had admitted that this was her first time on a motorbike.

The warlock could tell that she was feeling the adrenaline by the way her arms, which had barely been gripping him before, clutched onto him for dear life. She was a little socially awkward, but not in a bad, creepy way, the young adult had noticed. She stayed quiet and wasn't sure what to do with herself a lot, and most of the time Dan was actually forced to peer into her mind to find out what she needed.

If he was being honest, which he wasn't too often, she reminded him a bit of himself. No, not his teenager self. He had been a cocky teen, afraid of little. She reminded him of when he had lived back home, with his family. He had been a little on the quiet side and even more so on the shy side. But the thing that he connected to Simone about the most was her hunger for magical knowledge. He, too, had once wanted _so badly_ to use his gift freely.

The ride into the center was over rather quickly. Daniel took a turn off the main road and into one of the smaller, side streets. It was cozy, with quite a few cafés and small shops, along with a good pizza place. He had to take Simone there, since Eve was terrible with pizza places, as she was a vegetarian. The Kawasaki bike slowed down and then finally stopped in front of a familiar shop.

Dan pushed down the small leg, leaving his bike standing. Simone slid off clumsily, swaying the bike as she did. The warlock steadied her, his hands coming to her waist. The teenager brushed him off, moving away. Dan forced himself to focus his mind on something else than the girl in front of him, but he still got a wave of her feelings as she was taking off the helmet. The taste of bitter shame and anger was strangely unfamiliar, because it was directed at herself and not at him.

"Shall we?" Dan grinned, pushing the uneasiness down. He would give her her space. She needed to come to terms with her own stuff and then talk to him. After all, not matter how close he felt to her, since she was technically a Forester witch now, she didn't feel like it. Simone probably still thought of herself as a Jones, and Daniel knew that she wasn't going to change her views easily.

"Of course." The girl handed him the black helmet which he hooked up onto the bike.

"I thought that you might help me a bit today?" Dan asked, taking Simone towards the shop without a sign on the right side of the sunny street. It had a large display window, which was empty, and the inside looked like it had been painted recently. "Aunt Eve and I got this place some time ago and we want to open a separate shop here." The warlock explained as he unlocked the shop.

"What are you selling?" Simone asked, entering when Dan held the door for her.

"Well, since not a lot of people come to the Lighthouse Inn, because it's pretty far away from the center, and a lot of guests like the herbal remedies and teas that Aunt Eve makes, we figured that we would start with that." Dan grinned, turning in a circle. "What do you think?"

"Are you sure that it's a good idea to sell spells?" Simone murmured, frowning. The shop was rather wide, with a couple of tables which were covered in protective fabric. The walls were bare, and she could smell the paint still drying. There was a door in the back, which probably led to another room.

"Only little ones. The Muggles don't even notice the magic anyways." Daniel smiled. "We are probably going to offer ingredients as well." He walked towards the back door, opening it. "There are a lot of witches and warlocks that pass through and want to restock their herbs."

"I see." Simone nodded, following the warlock. The back room was way smaller than the front. There was a desk and a little cupboard, and loads and loads of paper everywhere. When the witch peered at them, she could see numerous calculations and notes. Money. Money ran the world. She couldn't imagine how much a room rent at the Inn cost, but it probably wasn't much. And with the size of Beacon Hills, it probably wasn't enough for a comfortable lifestyle. She briefly wondered how Aunt Eve managed on her own. In the Jones family, it was Mr. Jones's job which gave them their usual lifestyle.

"We were planning on bringing in the wallpaper and plastering it on today, but Eve's busy brewing." Daniel explained. "One of the witches that is coming next week asked for a couple of complicated spells which take some time to make. Auntie was pissed at the late order, I can tell you that." The warlock tossed his keys on the desk and placed his phone there as well. "The delivery guys should be here any minute."

"Of course." Simone placed her phone next to Dan's carefully and then went to fidget with her hair. She noticed that it had gotten entangled during their brief ride and hurried to undo the knots. As soon as Dan left the back room, she began pulling on the locks even harder, not trying to do so unnoticed.

"Simone?" Daniel called and she hurried to the front of the shop, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. "There you are." He nodded. "Shall we?" And the two spent the next couple of minutes tidying up the mess that had been left behind by the painters. Soon, a knock came from the door and a man in a uniform greeted Dan. They talked for a while as Simone folded one of the protective sheets carefully, watching them. They pointed a couple of times at the truck and then the man in the uniform nodded. Soon, Dan re-entered the shop-in-progress. "He said that he's going to do another delivery while we unload."

"Alright."

* * *

It was a couple of hours later, when Dan and Simone had mostly finished with plastering new wallpaper all across the shop, in a very Victorian design, that Aunt Eve stopped by. She bundled in, with an aura of pure sunlight, carrying cups and a paper bag with a giant smile on her face. In all honesty, Simone wouldn't have been surprised if a flock of helping birds followed the blonde witch in.

"Hello!" The joyful woman greeted. "You both look absolutely exhausted." She pushed her sunglasses on the top of her head and placed the treats on the nearby ladder. "Shall we take a break?" Daniel playfully glared at her and helped Simone off one of the tables that they were using as a makeshift ladder.

"That better be coffee in that cup." The warlock said, walking towards the drinks. Eve handed him one of them, smiling. The other she took to Simone, who had been nervously wiping her hands on her denim overalls.

"Here you go." She smiled. "I think that this should be alright."

"Thank you very much." The teenager sipped the hot beverage, immediately noticing the flavor. Passionflower. As the taste spread through her insides and sent warmth to her limbs, Simone noticed the familiar calming effect of the brew choice. But, it was a bit more potent that the one that she usually made. A smile from her Godmother, who was not bickering with Dan about where the cash register should go, confirmed her suspicions. Eve had noticed Simone's little problem with nervousness.

"Simone, what do you think?" The blonde witch asked, pulling her Goddaughter once more into the conversation. At the confused and quickly reddening face of the teenager, the woman repeated her question. "Should we put the cashier here, behind a dark wooden long table," The woman painted the picture. "Or, should we simply put a desk and a chair here, painted white, in a more relaxed manner?"

"Um, w-where are you planning to put the products?" Simone stammered, a little uncomfortable with the attention which was on her.

"I was thinking shelves?" Eve placed a finger on her lip, thinking. Dan frowned, gulping down the coffee which was in his mouth.

"Why not have armoires with glass displays?" He suggested, pointing at the walls. "They can be long and go all the way around. We can lock them with a spell and put a lead charm on the glass."

As Eve was nodding along, liking the mental image, and Simone spoke up. "Lead charm?" She immediately blushed, embarrassed that she had said the words out loud. She was a witch for God's sake. She was supposed to know her spells and charms.

"It will make the glass almost unbreakable." The blonde witch explained. "Quite useful, in fact." Then she turned to Dan. "And for the cash register?"

"What about a long, white counter that goes all around the room, instead of a desk?" Simone suggested quietly. However, it gained the attention of the other two, who nodded along, agreeing.

Then suddenly, Eve smiled even wider than usual. "If you'll excuse me." She giggled girlishly. "I have a previous engagement." And then she placed her sunglasses back onto her eyes and fixed her hair, exiting the shop. Simone sent Dan a questioning look, but he had this peculiar expression of general pity mixed with disappointment on his face. Pretty soon, the teen witch realized why.

Eve had gone out of the shop only to _accidentally_ slam into a rather tall, middle-aged man. She obviously began apologizing, taking off her sunglasses and looking quite genuinely sorry. As the two adults began to chat, Simone focused on the man. He had short hair and kind, light eyes which had numerous wrinkles around them from obviously smiling too much. He was also wearing a uniform, but for the life of her, Simone couldn't guess what his occupation was from the angle that she had.

Thankfully, Dan knew. "Sheriff Stilinski." The warlock sighed out, shaking his head. "Aunt's eternal conquest."

"Eternal?" Simone wondered out loud as she watched her Godmother flirt shamelessly with the oblivious Sheriff. She could feel herself blushing at the general disinterest that didn't deter the beautiful witch in any way. She found herself admiring her Aunt's confidence.

"Yeah, she's known him for quite some time, as they grew up in the same town." Daniel explained. "But Stilinski is older than Aunt Eve and was always oblivious to her… _interest_." He attempted to make the obvious crush seem milder. "She's never really given up. Even after he married." Simone hummed, nodding. They watched for a couple more moments as the witch flirted, the teenager blushing even more. "Transference of shame." Dan commented offhandedly.

"Mhmm." Simone hummed along. Luckily, they were saved by the bell. Well, more like a car horn. A teenage boy was sitting in the passenger seat of the Sheriff's car, waving his arms wildly at the older man in question. The Sheriff made his excuses to Aunt Eve and hurried to the car, beginning to bicker immediately with the teen.

"His son." Daniel explained even though Simone didn't ask. "Actually, he should be around your age… Maybe you'll meet him at school?" The warlock chuckled.

"Maybe." Simone agreed, going to one of the glue cans to continue putting up the wallpaper.

"Those Stilinski men, eh?" Daniel waggled his eyebrows at her, causing her to blush and began laughing hysterically. That was not happening, she told herself, remembering the uncoordinated motions of the boy with extremely short hair. No, she liked older guys. Handsome. Tall. Dark haired. Like Dan, for example, Simone thought with a smile. The warlock, who had obviously been listening in on her inner monologue, chocked on air and began coughing.

* * *

Simone refilled her baby blue watering can for the tenth time that evening. Obviously, Eve and Dan had found out what her favorite color was, hence most of the things that she had been given at the Inn were in some or the other tone of it. She walked over to the dry patch of earth and she slowly poured the water on it, careful not to make it too soggy.

Simone had kept Dan's unofficial rule of 'a spell a day' by helping out her Godmother with small good luck charms and calming brews that she made at the Inn for her supernatural guests. Not all of them bought them, but quite a few did. So, after spending her mornings in the Forester library for at least a week, the teenage witch had attempted to remember as many plants and rocks, along with their properties. Mrs. Jones's books had helped with the herbs, as they were much more detailed than the ones which the shelves of the library held.

Aunt Eve had found her one afternoon, curled up on the sofa of the library, reading away and taking notes into her diary. She had smiled and invited her to join in on the spell crafting. Since then, Simone's afternoons had been filled with choosing just the right herbs for the different blends. After a while, though, her Godmother had taken her to the beautiful gardens behind the house. There, she had led the young witch all the way into the back of the property, almost into the preserve, and through a single, white door.

Simone looked around the patch of land that she had been given, nodding. It looked so much better than the first time she'd seen it. She'd pulled the weeds and made the ground soft with different fertilizers. There had been quite a bit of Google searching done before choosing what to do with garden, as she had never taken care of anything like that before. Minuit had been quite happy with the change of scenery, as he was forbidden from playing in the library after a number of mishaps with the books. He enjoyed chasing butterflies and bugs while Simone got herself dirty as she worked on making the garden usable once more.

The blonde witch grinned to herself, looking around the freshly watered ground. This all reminded her a bit of the book called _The Secret Garden_ , which her mother had often read to her when she was a child. Except, she wasn't Mary and she had no Dickon to help her out. Though, she had Google. Perhaps that was her Dickon. Giggling to herself, Simone placed the watering can next to the door, turning once more to look at the garden. It was plain in the evening shadows, dark and rather boring-looking. But, Simone knew that soon all of her precious herbs would blossom and she would have her own, carefully selected, array of plants to use in magic spells.

During the first couple of weeks that she had been living at the Lighthouse Inn Simone Jones learned an important lesson for one witch: _One must have their own ingredients to use._

**That's all folks!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A side note form the author:
> 
> -The bike that Daniel has is a Kawasaki Ninja 1000, which is definitely one of the best in its class of sport touring motorcycles in my opinion.
> 
> -The name of the bike, Tomoe, comes from Tomoe Gozen, an infamous onna-bugeisha from the 12th century.


	8. Cornflower petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much Starkling_19 for the lovely comment :)

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Cornflower petals**

September rolled around quickly before Simone could even notice the passage of time. Her everyday e-mails to her parents became far and few in between and her frequent calls to her grandmother turned into only a couple of hand-written letters. She only noticed it after Eve laughed at dinner one evening, saying how Simone's grandmother had called to warn her not to 'steal her grandchild away'. But, when she phoned her favorite relative, the old witch had told her not to worry about a senile bat's threats. If she was forgetting to check in, that meant that she was having fun. Somehow, that had brought her comfort that she hadn't realized that she needed.

Simone had finished almost three diaries worth of magical instructions, full with different blends and combinations, along with their effectiveness and effects, and she had barely scratched the surface. Eve still hadn't given her a proper spell or potion to do on her own, as she supposedly wasn't ready. But, Simone didn't mind it this time. Unlike with her mother's restrictions, her Godmother actually wanted to learn the way of the Crafters. If it took time, she would be patient. Regardless of her attempts to convince herself that she had the desired virtue, Simone knew better. She had asked Daniel about his studies in the art and how long it had taken for him to actually use a proper spell. His answer had depressed her on a whole new level.

" _I'm not sure." Dan shrugged, munching on his chocolate chip cookie. "I suppose I've been using spells my whole life, since my family is full of Traditionalists." He looked away from Tomoe, his precious Kawasaki Ninja bike, which he was upgrading once more. "Why are you asking?"_

" _Aunt Eve isn't really letting me do any spells…" Simone murmured, her cheeks reddening. She was more than a little embarrassed by the fact. She was a witch for Gaia's sakes! She should be able to do as many spells as she wished. "She says I'm not ready."_

_Dan stopped his work, wiping away the sweat from his brow and leaving a dark, oily trail from his dirty fingers. "Trust what she says then." The warlock explained seriously. "Aunt Eve is a great witch, and an even better teacher. My magic was a mess when I came here, even though I knew how to use it."_

But, it was a couple of days before the first of September, the beginning of the school year, that Simone finally got her wish. The young witch had just finished washing the dishes, which were in a constant mess at the Inn, as Eve _abhorred_ doing the dishes and Dan usually forgot, when there was a doorbell ring.

Simone quickly rinsed her hands free of suds, yelling towards the door. "Coming!" When she opened the entrance, she wiped her, still wet, palms on the pink apron, smiling at the guest. She had been practicing welcoming new customers with Dan's tutelage, so that she could begin working as soon as the school semester started. "Hello!" She greeted the young woman at the door.

"Hi." The brunette awkwardly shifted from one foot to another, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Simone gave her a once over, noticing the lack of suitcases. She wasn't a guest, that much she could tell. The young woman was in her twenties, skinny and fit, and the witch could imagine her being on the front of a magazine. Well, with her leather jacket and dark jeans, she would totally rock sitting on the front of an old chevy Impala, smirking at the camera. God, was everyone in Beacon Hills this good-looking? Simone mentally cursed her gangly limbs and wished for the smooth ease and catlike grace which the young woman in front of her possessed.

"H-hello." Simone stammered once she realized that the brunette was still staring at her, waiting for something.

"Hi." Now, the woman smiled. It was an easy smirk-like expression on her painted lips, which sent Simone into a self-confidence depression spiral. She wished for a day when puberty would transform her from a caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly just like this woman. Maybe, in college. Maybe. But, probably not. "Is Evangeline home?"

"Y-yes. Please, come in." Simone moved to the side, allowing the young woman to enter and stand in the hall awkwardly for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other once more, her hands still in the back pockets of her jeans. "Aunt Eve should be downstairs in a minute, she's showing a room right now." The witch finally managed to gather her wits. The brunette nodded, turning in the same place and glancing around awkwardly. "Would you like anything to drink while you wait? Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee would be great. Black." The young woman had obviously noticed the level of Simone's sheer uncomfortableness and attempted to save her from any further shame. The witch nodded to herself a couple of times and rushed towards the kitchen. As she prepared the beverage, pouring it into one of the white cups with forget-me-nots on them, the brunette wandered into the kitchen as well, her hands now in the pockets of her jacket. Who in the world wears a leather jacket in this weather? Sure, it was almost September, but it wasn't that cold outside.

"Here you go." Simone offered the coffee to the young woman. There was another moment of awkward silence, before the brunette spared the young witch once more.

"It's good." She nodded at the coffee, offering a small smile. When Simone simply nodded, the woman continued. "You're not from Beacon Hills, are you?" Now this was a good conversation topic for the young Jones girl and she felt a breath of relief before speaking up.

"No, I'm not. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago from Colorado." The witch explained, leaning back at the counter, her fingers playing with a lock of her long hair nervously.

"Much warmer over there, isn't it?" The brunette asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Yes, but it's not too bad here either." The witch stopped for a moment and then forced herself to speak more. "I like the foggy mornings here, they are quite enchanting, especially when you live near the preserve." Simone had promised herself that she would be more outgoing this year. That she would make a friend or two. That she wouldn't be the lone weirdo in the back anymore. But, she had no idea what more to say. Somehow, conversation had never been her forte.

"I can imagine." The young woman smiled. "Be careful of the forest at night, though." She continued. "It is a preserve, after all. There are quite a few mountain lions around and they do sometimes come down from the mountains in search for food."

"I will." The teenager nodded. "Thanks for the heads up." And then, there was yet another silence. The blonde awkwardly stared at the brunette. When the young woman smiled at her once more, sipping her coffee, the teenager looked away, blushing. Maybe she should give up her idea of making friends. Conversation was a really bad point for her.

"Laura!" Simone couldn't manage to suppress the relief on her face once her Godmother appeared in the kitchenette doorway. "I didn't know that you were coming." Eve frowned a bit, the expression strange on her gentle features.

"Evangeline." The brunette headed towards the blonde witch, smiling a little awkwardly. "It's been a long time." The two hugged, but Simone could tell that there was something off. She wasn't sure what, but there was something wrong.

"I see that you've met my Goddaughter, Simone." Eve introduced, beckoning the young witch over and completely ruining her not-so-subtle attempt at an escape.

"Yes, she was quite welcoming." The brunette, Laura, smiled, praising the witch. "Where are my manners." The woman laughed, a deep rumbling sound which made her curls bounce on her shoulders. "My name is Laura Hale." She introduced herself.

"Simone Jones." The young witch said, even though it was most likely unnecessary, seeing as Eve had just introduced her. There was yet another awkward silence.

"Simone, honey, why don't you go and see if the guests in room 2.11 like the place and if they will be staying?" Eve spoke in an overly sugary tone, which definitely set off the young witch's internal alarm bells. With a nod, the teen was off.

* * *

Simone sighed, shutting the book on her lap and tossing it on the heavy wooden table next to her. She was giving up. _The Basic Circles and Incantations_ was a tome full of diagrams that confused the living daylights out of her, and the young witch was slowly beginning to give up on the idea of transmutation. Maybe, it _was_ too ambitious to think that she could learn how to properly use magic in a span of a few weeks. It was a craft that one learns throughout their whole life, after all.

The young witch walked to the numerous bookshelves, dragging her fingers along the titles, choosing her next read. She had given up on more than ten books since she had left the basic introductory encyclopedias. Frankly, she was getting depressed. Again. If there was one thing which Simone absolutely hated about herself, it was her tendency to give up as soon as something got difficult. Sure, sometimes she would plow right through the pain and get her goal, no matter how unachievable it seemed. But, these bursts of ambition and determination were rare.

But, she wasn't about to give up on magic. That was something that made her special. It was something that defined her. This one, she would plow through. She would make herself do it.

" _The Book of Fire: Battle Magic._ " The young witch read out loud. She pulled the tome off the shelf and started sifting through. The first hundred or so pages were full of numerous diagrams and magic circles, with lots of explanations about the theoretical aspects of the spells. But, as soon as the teen got to page 101, there were sketches of people making different hand motions. "It looks like a martial art." The witch murmured, skimming through. She placed the book on the table, finding the simplest spell that she could and stood a little further away. "Kind of like this." Simone extended her arms in front of her, her palms straight, parallel to the wall.

"Next is-this." She intertwined her fingers in a second position and then pulled them in to her chest, just as the book showed. She could feel a tingling of her magic, rumbling inside, pushing towards the surface. "Followed by…" Simone peered at the page, undoing her fingers and following the sketch in the book. Her elbows went wide and she made a pushing motion to the front. The rumbling was there, warm, electrifying, just underneath her skin. Her magic was there, responding to the spell. With another glance at the page, Simone completed the spell, thrusting her hands to the front once more.

There was a brief moment of silence.

Nothing happened. The magic was still rumbling just underneath Simone's skin, but nothing happened. She couldn't feel anything. Her previous excitement was gone. Her heart gradually slowed down. The spell hadn't worked. The magic was there, but it didn't work.

A door shut on the top of the stairs and the young witch quickly lowered her hands, slamming the book of battle spells and shoving it back onto the shelf. She didn't know why, but she didn't want Eve or Dan to know that she had attempted those spells.

About as soon as Simone had thrown herself into the chair, re-opening _The Basic Circles and Incantations_ , Eve appeared on the stairs. She wasn't smiling. The blonde witch looked around, finding her Goddaughter.

"Simone." Eve called out. "What are you up to?" The blonde wandered down into the basement library, a smile forcing its way onto her face. It wasn't genuine. She was still bothered about something. There was something off. And if Simone had to guess, she would bet that it was connected to the early morning visit of the model-like Laura Hale.

"Just trying to understand this stuff." The young witch turned the book around, showing the circles and descriptions in Latin to her Godmother. "It's worse than History."

Eve chuckled, this time honestly. She pulled a chair up and sat next to the teenager. "Don't worry about those for now." She took the book and closed it. "Transmutation and transfiguration are two things that you shouldn't attempt until you are comfortable with everyday easy spells." After noticing the confused look on the teen's face, the witch explained further. "You should start with using a medium, such as a candle, incantation or a stone to focus you magic. That way, you won't drain yourself and the spell will be much easier to do."

After Simone gave a nod of understanding, despite the fact that she was still rather lost, Eve opened _the Basics_ once more. "See, transmutation uses magic circles instead of incantations, which makes it much harder for an inexperienced witch or warlock." The long nail painted maroon pointed at a passage in the book. "It explains the method here, but I think that the book is a bit too complicated. That's why it's better to learn from a teacher."

"I see." The teen murmured, her mood plummeting further. All the previous excitement about the battle spell was gone, and she was sinking further into her usual, calm mode. It was like she was underneath the surface of the sea, relaxed, without strong feelings to cause waves on the surface. All the chaos was above, and she was under, in silence, in peace. This way, she could control the rage that often consumed her and made her magic go insane.

"Alright." Eve clapped her hands on her knees, creating a sound which resounded throughout the library. "Shall we choose your first official spell?"

Simone could swear that she stopped breathing. She looked at her Godmother in shock, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She could feel the familiar tingle of her magic, curiously tapping in the back of her head like a tiny drum. It was excited because it could sense her own excitement.

"But, I thought-"

"It's about time, wouldn't you say?" Eve laughed the comment off, standing up. "Now then, since your affinity hasn't manifested yet, we should choose an easy, generic spell." The witch wandered off to the shelves, looking through the titles. "Is there any spell that you would like to try? Something simple, such as lighting a candle or creating a small breeze."

There was a single thought that came to mind at those words. "Is there a spell to change color of a certain object?" Eve smiled.

* * *

That night, Simone could barely sleep. She had spent at least for hours listening to the sounds of the forest coming through her open window as she stared at the spell on her desk. Minuit was tight asleep in his place under her bed, content with his treat during dinner. The Lighthouse Inn was quiet.

Aunt Eve had showed her the recipe for the coloring spell, and Simone had spent the afternoon attempting to make the right solutions. The enchantment had two parts, along with potion making. The first one involved the hue which the caster wanted as a result. It had to be made out of natural colors, since magic didn't recognize synthetic ones. So, Simone had gone into the greenhouse in the middle of her Aunt's gardens and found all the blue flowers and berries that she could. With a little help from Google on her phone, she had picked a couple and then proceeded to try and cut and boil the ingredients into the right hue.

The second part of the spell was the fixative, as the color needed something to keep it glued to the desired object. This had been a simple part. It involved water and vinegar, in the right dosage and with the right stirring. Thankfully, it had only taken Simone three tries to get this part right. By the time she had finished both concoctions, her hands were dyed a pale, baby blue and her nails were a much darker hue of the same color.

Daniel had walked in sometime before dinner, looking exhausted and muttering something about IKEA. He had stopped, stared at the working witch for a moment and then shaken his head and walked away. Thankfully, Aunt Eve had come by and checked out Simone's potions before dinner, which the Forester's always had together, after the guests were done. The blonde witch had stirred each potion with her finger, as if testing the density of it. Miraculously, no blue had glued onto her hands.

But, Simone had gotten her spell ingredients approved, and that was all that mattered to the young witch. Now, she was staring at the two identical, hexagonal glass bottles filled to the brim with liquid. In the clear one, the fixative, lay a piece of silk, soaking. The other one held the color, a soft blue made out of cornflowers, which was going to be used later.

Her spell was almost done. Her first spell.

Yet, she didn't feel the rush.

True, she had had fun making the potions and doing the research, as always. But, there hadn't been that rumble under her skin, like when she had attempted the battle magic from the book. There hadn't had been no rush. There had been no excitement. No magic.

Simone sighed, turning around in her bed, so that she wouldn't be looking at the glass bottles that were glimmering in the moonlight. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to go to sleep. Yet, the only things that she could see were those sketches from _The Book of Fire_. What in the world was the Book of Fire anyways? She had never heard of it.

Sure, most cultures had different elements as their basic ones. From Ancient Greece to China, and then in modern Buddhism and Hinduism. Even in the Wiccan traditions, the modern version of Crafting, there were the elements. But, she had never heard it mentioned from her mother or grandmother. Eve and Dan had talked about an affinity, but surely, it wasn't something like being a bender, like the Last Airbender cartoon. Simone scolded herself and forced her eyes closed once more.

She would investigate further the next day.

Unfortunately, those plans had vanished with the morning sun.

* * *

Knocking sounded on Simone's room door, along with yelling. "Hurry up, slowpoke, you're going to be late!" Dan's voice rang out, as he pounded on the door once more.

Simone jumped a bit, her temper finally showing itself. "I'll be right there!" She yelled out, throwing her brush down and giving up on her messy, long hair. She was done. The witch glanced at her reflection in the mirror for the last time that morning. She was wearing skinny jeans, black, and a large sweater with a picture of a cat in the front. The black feline had always reminded her of Jiji from Kiki's Delivery Service, one of her favorite witch cartoons. On her feet, as usual, were her trusty Dr. Martens, maroon and a little off color balance with the whole outfit, but she didn't care. They were her lucky object.

"Simone!" Dan yelled from afar, reminding her that the holidays were over. The teenager checked the contents of her bag once more, panic beginning to grip her. Pen, notebook, phone, charger, tissues, another pen, cat, a couple of Dan's old books, jump drive. Yes, she was ready. Wait, cat?

Midnight meowed, complaining, as Simone picked him out of her bag for the third time that morning. "I'm sorry, little one." She profusely apologized, feeling sorry for the pathetic looking kitten. "I can't take you to school."

And with that, Simone looked at her mirror for the last time, giving her pale and slightly sick-looking reflection an uneasy and very unconvincing smile. "You can do this." She whispered, nodding. "You wanted to come to Beacon Hills, after all." The young witch grabbed her natural lip-balm, a gift from her grandmother, and her bag, rushing out of her room. Before she closed the door, she smiled for the last time at the walls, now pale blue, with designs of cornflowers all over the vintage wallpaper. If she could do a proper spell, she could deal with some rowdy teenagers.

Eve was fussing downstairs, preparing sandwiches and packing them into a sealed plastic bag. When Simone entered, she rushed to pack them into her bag, zipping it up and grinning. "Ready?" The witch gave the teenager a hug after the girl managed a shaky nod. The warm scent of coconuts was familiar and comforting and Simone found herself relaxing a bit.

"Shall we?" Dan walked in as well, pulling a shirt over his head as he did. Simone had managed to catch a nice view of his stomach, though, which had made her face flush. What in the world did the he do to get himself to look like that, the witch wondered, finding her Dr. Marten's quite interesting.

"Daniel." Eve warned with an unamused look on her face. "How many times do I have to ask you to get dressed in your own room?"

"At least once more." The warlock cheekily replied, smirking. He reached for the keys at the counter and turned to Simone. "Are you going to make an impression today or are you going incognito?" He asked.

"Incognito, please." She murmured, shifting from foot to foot and reached for the lock of her hair to twirl it.

"Alright, Signor Ezio." The warlock grabbed the keys of the KIA and headed out. As Simone went to follow him, her Godmother grabbed her shoulder gently.

"Simone." She said, smiling, but the young witch could tell that the woman was serious. "You'll do great today." The blonde whispered, hugging her Goddaughter once more and then patting her hair into place carefully. It seemed for a second like she wanted to say something else, but Dan yelled from the entrance, causing both witches to remember the time. "Go on now, you don't want to be late for your first day of school."

* * *

The KIA slowly pulled into the parking lot, Dan skillfully sliding it in between two cars and turning the engine off. Axl Rose's vocals of Welcome to the Jungle cut off mid-word, leaving the vehicle in complete silence. Simone fidgeted for a moment, before her hand flew to her mouth and her teeth latched onto the edge of her nail, biting it. Dan drummed his fingers on the wheel of the KIA, a little uncomfortable.

"Want me to go in with you?" He finally asked, once the teenager didn't show any intent to move from the passenger's seat. Simone shook her head in silence and took a shaky breath. She undid her seatbelt and pushed the door open, slipping out. "Simone." Dan leaned over, calling out to her. "On the bright side, they probably won't even notice that you're new."

As the teenager walked towards the double doors of the school, which were really, the same as any other American high school's, she realized that Dan's words, no matter how pathetic, had brought her some comfort. Simone Jones knew that she wasn't a person that everyone remembered. Heck, she had had a number of awkward situations in the supermarket, where she had had to remind a person who she was once she said hi.

Somehow, the school seemed much more intimidating now, rather than a week ago, when she had gone to get her schedule and register for classes. Maybe it was all the teenagers rushing towards the entrance? Simone didn't know, but, her hands went cold, as usual, and a familiar drum began to pound in the back of her head, her skin tingling with magic. The young witch began rummaging through her bag, looking for her headphones. When she didn't find them, she cursed herself. The drumming in her head was loud, reminding her of exactly what could happen if she lost control of her nervousness.

Taking a shallow, shaky breath, Simone looked up and focused on her goal, first class of the day, Trig. In her mind, she quickly started her calming mantra for extreme emergencies. _Two times two is four. Two times three is six. Two times four is eight._ Etcetera. By the time she managed to squeeze through the door, passing a couple of boys with white sticks for some sort of a game, Simone was calm.

Well, as calm as one could be on their first day at a new high school.

**That's all folks!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto the fun facts of this chapter:
> 
> \- Daniel is an avid gamer, and he often mentions characters from his favorite games  
> \- The coloring spell which Simone uses is actually made by using natural fabric coloring as an example  
> \- Simone's worst subject it History, closely followed by P.E.  
> \- Daniel watches anime  
> \- Simone enjoyed witch movies as a young girl a lot  
> \- Evangeline is one of the most famous witches in California, due to her family history


	9. Mean Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A very quick update, me gusta!
> 
> Please read this:
> 
> I've been trying to understand how Beacon High works semester-wise, and it's utterly mind boggling for me… Sorry. So, I will be keeping it to the year 2011, because that's when the show started and going from there.
> 
> I will be basing my version of the school year on the old CO system which I experienced in high school. In other words, fall semester starts in late August or the beginning of September and I will see if I will be doing four or five classes per semester.
> 
> Simply, the information which I have been sifting through on TeenWolfWiki is weird. To say the least.  
> I realized that I messed up with the timeline, so I may go back and correct it later.. but I also may not xD

**I was listening to Day 1 by Miyavi while writing this, along with a long mix called 1 Hour of Magic Fantasy Music | Epic, Dark, Magical, Relaxing on the YT profile of Peter Gundry.**

**My choice of cast: Miss Griffith – Jessica Parker Kennedy (during her youth, of course)**

**I give you:**

**Chapter 9: Mean Girls**

She was pretty sure that she was hyperventilating.

Alright, that may be a tiny exaggeration. Simone had walked into the Beacon High, her new high school and found out that Dan's words had rang absolutely true. The number of people staring at here was zero. But, that didn't mean that wasn't paranoid about it. She felt like there was someone boring a hole into her back, and she knew that there wasn't. Regardless, the young witch couldn't help the soft humming in the back if her head, which was showing the sheer alertness of her magic.

Simone gripped the phone in her hand and unlocked it, looking for the memo of her schedule. She found the number of her first period classroom and started searching for it in the hallway. The witch tried to tune out the noise and the teenagers chatting and barely managed. Pretty soon, she was lost in her own thoughts, reading the rising numbers above the classrooms. She truly didn't understand how in all those teenage movies the new guy or girl would need someone to guide them to their class. For God's sake, they were literate, weren't they?

She managed to find classroom forty-seven fairly easily all the way in the back of the east side of the school. The witch peered in, finding it empty and releasing a breath of relief. She located her favorite seat, the one in the back, next to the window. It wasn't in the last row, so that she wouldn't be under the teacher's watchful gaze.

Simone placed her bag on the chair table, sitting down and twirling a strand of her hair. She looked around, waiting for the second bell. The classroom was fairly ordinary, similar to the math class from her old school in Colorado. There was a board in the front and a couple of colorful posters on the walls with different theorems and famous mathematicians. All in all, a regular classroom.

The sound of the second bell rang out and Simone heard voices coming closer, people chattering and girls laughing. Pretty soon, the classroom began getting filled up with students, all who were talking to each other in different groups and telling jokes to each other. The young witch found herself stretching her long legs, crossing them at the ankles. The whole class was full of people who knew each other from before. They weren't really looking for contact outside of their little groups and were rather content with that.

Hit with a sudden sense of déjà vu, the young witch unlocked her phone, searching for something to amuse herself with on it. She ended up opening Google Chrome and began browsing through a couple of links about Mexican cuisine. She was feeling like making some enchiladas when she got back to the Inn. She hadn't had a chance to cook for Eve and Dan yet, and enchiladas were a good thing to make. Remembering that Eve was a vegetarian, she typed in _Top dishes for vegans_ and began reading about them. Most of them sounded quite delicious.

"Sorry, could you pull in your legs?" A voice shook Simone from her reading and she looked up to see a teenage girl waiting. She seemed a tad impatient.

"S-sorry, I didn't c-catch that." The witch stammered, her mouth dry and her hands going cold, trembling. She was talking to a girl. To a teenager. In a classroom. At school. That was most certainly a first for her. Girls didn't like her. Boys, even less. And, girls looking like that one _especially_ didn't like her. You see, Simone Jones fell into the 'nerds and losers' group at high school. It hadn't really bothered her until recently. Maybe, it was Mrs. Jones constantly telling her that she had more potential, that she was wasting her youth on silly things. Maybe, it had simply been the years of watching other girls get noticed by guys whom they liked and hooking up with them. Maybe, it had simply been the time that she had spent watching other friendships from behind a book.

"Can. You. Move. Your. Legs." The girl divided her words, slowing down. Simone felt her cheeks heating up and she quickly pulled her legs underneath her chair. She had to keep them locked at the ankles, as she felt that her laces had gotten caught on the opposite shoe, tying her feet together. The teenager in front of her sighed, sounding exasperated and plopped down in the seat.

"I'm sorry." Simone managed to murmur, her face lowering and her hair falling around her head like a light curtain. Luckily, she was spared more humiliation as the teacher came in, slamming the door closed and tossing a file onto the desk.

He was a middle-aged, short man with a surprising lack of hair on his head. The top, which was completely bald, was well-oiled and shined in the morning sun like a crystal ball. The teacher was wearing a casual, business outfit, along with rimmed glasses. Long story short, if you imagined a math geek who grew up just as geeky and placed him in front of a class you got Mr. Arthur Roberts.

He began talking in his nervous, high-pitched tone, introducing the class. "My name is Mr. Roberts, you can call me Mr. Roberts." He took up a chalk piece, a rarity in today's day and age and wrote his name on the board. "I will be teaching your Trigonometry class and, if you decide to take Calculus one or two next semester, those as well." As soon as the topic passed over which calculator they needed and how they would be provided notes from each lesson on the school's website, Simone zoned out a tad.

After all, Math was a good subject for the teenage witch. She had been obsessed with the Craft since she had found out about her heritage, and in essence, traditional rituals were made of magic, chemistry, math and language skills. She had always doubled her effort in those classes.

The girl in front of her whipped some hair over her shoulders, sending the perfect curls flying, like those that one got when they made them with rags, without any heat. A whiff of expensive perfume touched Simone's nose, and she focused on the girl. She was dark skinned, but not black, with shiny black hair that fell to her shoulders. When she turned to speak to the boy next to her, Simone could catch a glimpse of her face, which had rather soft features and a cute nose. But, as if to contrast her genuinely pretty self, she was wearing baggy pants with numerous large pockets and a flannel shirt. Simone believed that she had just found the rebellious skater crowd.

"As for your books, thankfully you won't need to buy them." Mr. Roberts continued. "You will each go and pick your book from the shelves one the left and sign your name on the card on the first page. You will be using that book throughout the semester." He pointed at one of the boys in the back. "That means that if you misplace it or damage it, you will need to replace it, Mr. Greenberg." When the class chuckled simultaneously, the teacher continued. "Go pick your book now."

* * *

Simone walked into the cafeteria, stopping short at the entrance. French II had been a fun class, just like Dan had promised. Mr. Beauchamp had opened the lesson with a silly introduction in French, before translating it to English. He had told them a silly joke about being afraid of bears and how the mountain, which he assured them _did_ have bears, was thirty miles away and that bears could, in fact run thirty miles an hour, hence that a bear could appear at the school in an hour. And, to conclude why he was afraid of them, it was naturally because they could smell fear. After that, the man had proceeded to explain what they were going to be doing that semester, including the reading material and the grammar.

The young witch gripped her bag, deciding where to sit. She could spot the segregated groups fairly easily. After all, if there was one thing that a quiet person was good at, it was observing. There was the popular, jocks and cheerleaders, group sitting on the far right, led by a rather handsome teenager who was leaning back in his chair, playing with a white ball without much interest. He kept tossing it in the air and catching it with some sort of a short stick, straight into the net each time. Next to him was a bubbly-looking redhead, who had complete control of conversation. Simone immediately rejected that table.

It was true that jocks were always on the lookout for fresh meat, but she was neither good-looking, nor popular person material, hence she was a big, fat, no-no to that crowd. Next, the young witch looked to the left, where she found the classic gothic and emo crowd, darkening a corner. Now, one might think that due to her clothing and music choices, Simone would fall into that area of the cafeteria, but they would be wrong. Regardless of the popular belief, she was neither gothic, nor emo and most definitely not hardcore.

As she continued trying to assess the cafeteria crowd, a sound of wheels was heard and then something slammed into her side. Thankfully, neither Simone nor the other person fell, but the blonde's book and sandwiches did fly across the room. She could feel her cheeks reddening as she straightened herself and picked up her bag off the floor. There was some rather colorful cursing coming from in front of her and she looked up to realize that she was probably in a nightmare. She quickly looked down, just to make sure that she wasn't, in fact, naked. The whole cafeteria was laughing at her. She could hear it and her pale cheeks got even redder.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" The skateboard-riding, rather familiar girl was walking over to Simone now, looking like she might deliver a punch or two. She had her colorful board gripped with her right hand, as the other one was in a tight fist. "It's _you_." The tan teenager exclaimed once she got close enough to Simone and grit her teeth in anger.

"I-I'm s-sorry- I-I-" But all apologies were cut off when the teen in plaid reached her and caught a piece of her long hair and tugged. Hard.

"Bitch." The girl exclaimed, reaching to tug once more when another voice bellowed.

"Miss Griffith!" A tall teacher with glasses was rushing over, looking like he might blow up. "Skateboards aren't allowed on school property!" He reached them, but Simone couldn't make anything else out on his face, as it was blurry through her teary eyes. "Detention." The hero's voice had turned icy.

"What a joke." The skater girl commented, tossing the board on the cafeteria floor with a loud clatter. "This bitch started it." Simone looked up, her mouth opening soundlessly in an attempt to defend herself, but it was useless. The whole cafeteria was laughing, the teacher was giving her a mean stare-down and the tan girl looked just about ready to squash her. No words came out of her mouth.

"That language is going to get you a special, weekly detention." The teacher continued. "With me." Then, he turned to stare at Simone next. "And you, my classroom today after last period. Detention." He glared at the crowd, silencing them instantly. It's a real life Snape, Simone's brain managed to be helpful with the wrong information. "Get lost." And the circle of teenagers around them dispersed.

Simone scampered off to find her phone and lunch, which she hoped were in good condition. She caught the tan skater girl flipping her finger at the mean teacher's back, much to the amusement of her crowd of male friends.

* * *

By the end of the day, Simone was about ready to cry. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger, as someone had stepped on her sandwiches and she had had to toss them. At least, she had gone to the large trash cans outside of the Beacon High and unpacked them there, so that animals could feed from them. That was the only comforting thing that had got her through the day, the thought of some hungry raccoon gobbling up her sandwich.

Other than the damage to her lunch, there had been some dealt to her phone, as well. There was now a long crack across the screen, all the way from the Home button to the camera on the top, lighting up with a neon color whenever she unlocked her cell. Not to mention that there were a couple of scruffs on the back of her, previously undamaged, phone. She was depressed and more than a little regretful.

To make her day even worse, she had found out that she had Professor Snape as her teacher, as well. He taught Chemistry and his name was Mr. Harris. In other words, Mr. Hellish. Well, at least she was rather good at the subject, so she hopefully wouldn't have a lot of trouble keeping up. The less fortunate fact was that she had a number of classes with the tan skater girl, who kept tossing her dirty looks throughout the day. They had shared the detention together, Mr. Hellish putting them side by side, at the same desk. To say that it had been uncomfortable was a very large understatement.

Simone slid into the passenger seat of the familiar maroon KIA in silence. It was a rare car in the parking lot, seeing as most people had already gone home. As Dan gave her an inquisitive look and pulled out of the spot, a group of teenage boys came out of the school, carrying those white sticks with nets that Simone had been seeing the whole day. Despite her bad mood, she was intrigued.

"What are those for?" She asked the warlock in a tiny voice, pointing at the sticks.

"Lacrosse." Daniel explained, grinning. He glanced behind before joining the stream of cars in the street. "You don't have lacrosse in Colorado?"

Simone shook her head. "It's not that popular, I guess. We play football." And the rest of the ride was spent in complete silence, along with the riffs of The Unforgiven II coming from the radio.

* * *

To say that the rest of the day was spent in complete depression for Simone Jones was a complete understatement. She had retreated into her room without any food and tossed herself on her bed, plugging in her large headphones and drowning out the sounds of the real world with the soft voice of Amy Lee, lulling herself into a sad nap. She had woken up some time later, three songs, to be exact, and found Minuit curled up on top of her, his blue eyes watching her intently. Now that she paid attention to them, the left one was slowly getting darker. They were finally changing their color, and the kitten was reaching his adulthood.

That was the only comfort that she got, as it told her that it was less likely for the cat to be deaf. Since Minuit was white, he had a high chance of losing his hearing, but, if his eyes held a darker pigment, he also was more likely to keep his sense. She hugged the kitten, stroking its little head and getting more and more depressed. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Simone managed to pick herself up.

She walked to the window and opened it, leaving Midnight on the floor to hop on the ledge and sit there, not really caring that the window frame was painfully boring into her thighs. The wind became stronger and stronger, and soon, tiny drops of water hit Simone's face. She took off her headphones, choosing to listen to the rain instead. She had always loved the rain. Thunderstorms, in particular. They weren't too frequent in Colorado, but, at her grandmother's place they appeared more than often. She loved the pure strength of Nature which appeared when the storm came. In front of it, everyone was the same. Witch, warlock, werewolf, druid, human, it didn't matter.

The storm took what it wanted and no-one could oppose it. It was poetic really. And more than a little melodramatic. But, Simone supposed that those qualities came with being a teenager. She was willing to give herself some room for clichés.

The rain began falling in buckets, pouring in waves to the ground as the wind whipped her left and right. The young witch, who was still sitting on her window, her thighs now completely numb, was soon soaked in the rough weather. Lighting crashed in the distance, somewhere into the preserve and Simone caught a glimpse of it.

There was a hunched shape of a large animal crouching in the woods. She squinted, trying to see it in the dark and the pouring rain, but she really couldn't make anything out. She remembered Laura Hale's words about mountain lions coming down to the cities in search for food. But, Simone knew better. She was a granddaughter of one of the most methodical and adventurous witches of her time, after all. Her grandmother had told her one too many bedtime stories that she suspected were reality.

Another lightning crashed, illuminating the trees and the small clearing where Simone has spotted the figure. It was empty. Nothing. Maybe it had been a shadow? A trick of her eye? No, she was sure that she had seen something. Something… supernatural. Her magic was pounding in her head, after all. And it wasn't that kind of gentle, but persistent thrum that she got when she was upset. No, it was a violent, scared instinct now. Fight or flight, the magic was screaming. _Fight or flight._

"Simone!" Strong arms wrapped around her wet form and pulled her into the room, her Dr. Marten's clattering on the ledge as they passed over. The person behind her was so warm. She was cold as ice, the witch realized. Her hands were trembling and she was clutching at the strong arms around her. "Simone." Dan. It was Dan. Of course it was Dan. "Are you alright? Were you dreamwalking?" Minuit was meowing so loudly that it sounded like screaming in her ears. How did Dan know about the dreamwalking? She hadn't told them…

"I-I'm fine." Her voice was shaky from the cold. Another lightning flashed as Dan pulled her into his warm embrace, rubbing her arms to get her warmed up as well. He was whispering something under his breath, and she was pretty damn sure that it wasn't in English.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, pulling her up and placing her on her bed, without even breaking a sweat. Simone was too shaken to be embarrassed at that time, but she was quite mortified later, when she realized that the handsome warlock had carried her like she weighted nothing. Dan closed the window, latching it, and the room became as if soundproof. The branches of the tall valley oak in the back of the villa were angrily whipping the glass, as if they were hands trying to break in. "Simone?"

"I'm fine." Her tone was shaky, but at least she managed to croak something out.

"Were you dreamwalking?" The warlock asked. Now that she thought about it, what had compelled her to sit on the window still? Sure, she missed her window seat from back home, but not this much. She was a smart teen. She wasn't suicidal. This wasn't like her at all. The familiar thrum of her magic in her head was almost painful. But, it wasn't like usual. It was stronger. Brighter. Electrifying.

There was something wrong. Something was wrong with her magic. It wasn't tame anymore.

"No." The witch managed to whisper. "I was just sitting there." She explained lamely. Even she knew that it wasn't a good enough excuse.

"You were leaning pretty far out, Simone." Dan sounded worried. Why was he worried? She wasn't mad. She was as sane as he was. Then again, as Tim Burton had put it in a rather clever way, all the best people were completely bonkers. The witch looked at Dan and she knew that he _knew_. He had read her mind. He knew that she didn't _know_. That it hadn't been _her_. Yet, it had.

The warlock let out a soft sigh, getting up and walking to the large wardrobe. He took off the fluffy white towel from the door, where it had been drying that morning, and brought it to the witch. "Welcome to magic." He grinned. "It makes no sense."

Simone trembled from the cold, getting up to dry herself. She suddenly became aware of the fact that she was thoroughly soaked. The witch kicked off her Dr. Marten's and began undoing her pants, shaking all the while. Midnight was walking in between her legs, seeking attention quietly.

"I'll be outside." Dan shuffled out, a little awkwardly. Simone blushed once she realized that she had begun stripping in front of him. "Call me when you've changed." He said seriously and walked out, shutting the door.

Simone shimmied out of her jeans with some trouble, as they were soaked and sticking to her skin like glue. She threw off the Jiji sweater and her underwear, quickly drying herself off. As Minuit began to play with her Dr. Marten's yellow laces, she picked out some underwear and a sports bra, not bothering to match them. Last, she found a nightgown made of cotton, a gift from her grandmother and slipped it on. It smelled like the herbs that her grandma used every day and the young witch finally felt herself calming down. The tingling of her magic slowly became just a comfortable hum in the back of her mind.

Lightning flashed across the skies and Simone glanced out. The branches were still slamming against her window and she wondered briefly how come they hadn't hit her. The storm outside was hellish and she was glad that she was inside.

"I'm dressed." She softly spoke and her door opened immediately, Dan coming in. His navy shirt had a dark patch where he had hugged her wet form to himself, pulling her off the ledge. Simone immediately felt guilty.

The warlock walked over, hugging her with his strong arms once more, enveloping her in warmth. She felt like she was inside a comfortable, toasty blanket burrito, where nothing could hurt her. Her slim arms slipped around Dan's waist, holding him. She could tell that her face was burning. After all, no boy had ever done something like this to her. But, she needed the comfort. And, this was Dan. Dan the huge nerd who loved teasing the living daylights out of her. Handsome, warlock Dan.

"Are you alright?" The young man repeated, caressing her head gently. He sounded so scared.

"I'm fine." The teen repeated, slowly pulling away. She expected questions any second now. Why had she been up there? What did she see? Why? What? When? Where? How? But, Dan surprised her with a small smirk and twirled a lock of her blonde hair with his finger.

"Your hair is a mess." He teased, leading Simone to her desk chair. He sat her down and then took her brush from the shelves above her bed, where she had left it that morning. Then, the warlock pulled all of her hair behind her shoulders, so that it was running down her back, and slowly began brushing it out.

After a couple of minutes of complete silence, as Dan worked on her locks, Simone finally spoke up. "You're awfully good at this." She noted, her tone strong, without a tremble in sight. Her body was warm somehow, lulled into security by the young man behind her who practically radiated with warmth and safety. The adrenaline aftermath had worn off as well, leaving her of sound mind and calm thought.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I have had girlfriends and sisters before." The warlock cheekily replied, and Simone could tell that he was smirking. Strangely, there was a small pang of jealousy at the word 'girlfriend' which came out of his mouth. Somehow, imagining the handsome warlock with a faceless girl brought unease to Simone. Maybe she was simply used to seeing him flying solo? "There we go." The young man placed the brush on the desk in front of the witch, his fingers running once more through her hair as he braided it loosely.

"Thank you." Simone said once the long braid was finished.

"Anytime." Dan reached around, tickling her nose with the ends of her own hair, causing her to giggle. In the middle of their relaxed laughter, Simone's stomach rumbled, complaining about the fact that she had only eaten breakfast. "I'll go fetch you something nice." Dan grinned, leaving the room.

Simone stood there for a moment, caressing the neat braid that he had made for her. She noted that her hair was strangely dry and warm, like she had been blow-drying it. Just five minutes, she told herself, stumbling around her shoes and onto her bed. Just until Dan comes back, and the teen snuggled under her covers, strangely warm as well, her eyes closing. The last thing that she felt was Minuit snuggling into her folded arms skillfully.

Needless to say, Daniel found them both sound asleep when he came back with food.

**That's all folks!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting info about this chapter:
> 
> \- Dan, as cool as he was, never played lacrosse  
> \- Daniel prefers old rock, while Simone is more of a new wave girl  
> \- Simone doesn't know a lot about other supernaturals, her mother was too protective


	10. Witch Godmother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cast for the chapter is the following:
> 
> Simone - Portia Doubleday  
> Eve - Beth Riesgraf  
> Dan - Beau Mirchoff  
> Griffith (skater girl) – Jessica Parker Kennedy  
> Rebecca Harlowe (Harley) – Jamila Thompson

**Enjoy**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Witch Godmother**

Simone woke up to the sweet, familiar scent and the gentle sounds of old music. She got up, checking her phone, which brought a sick feeling to her stomach at the sight of the vertical, neon crack on it. Regret from yesterday's cafeteria disaster was still present in high quality. It was six thirty o'clock and the sun still wasn't up. The teen got onto her feet, noticing that Minuit was missing from the room and hurriedly threw on some clothes, not even bothering. The braid in her hair reminded her of the night before, when Dan had comforted her. Somehow, in the morning warmth, the first day of school and the storm that had followed seemed like a faraway nightmare. Despite the crack on her phone.

The Inn was filled with a sweet, familiar scent and Simone followed it all the way to the kitchen. She supposed that the guests were still sleeping, because when she got downstairs, it was only Dan and Eve. The blonde witch was wearing a short, indie dress with a colorful, mandala design. Her shoulders were bare, and her bangles were all in place. Whenever she moved, a gentle jingle followed her. Her hair was in a loose bun, still a tad sweaty from morning yoga.

Daniel, instead of his usual position on the couch with an arm over his eyes, was fully dressed and functional. He wasn't padding around barefoot in his boxers or jeans, as Simone had somehow (not really) managed to get used to. Instead, he already had his pants on, along with a fit T-shirt with 'Everybody lies' written on it. And, however cool he looked, the warlock was doing something much unexpected.

Dan twirled Eve who was laughing with joy as Vaya con Dios played in the background. It was a quick succession of salsa moves which the two executed quite well, at least in Simone's sleepy opinion. Now that she actually paid attention, Daniel was a really good height for Eve as a dance partner. He was much too tall for Simone, as she was rather short, but Eve was a tad taller and plus, she was wearing high heels.

Dan twirled Eve, leaving her to dance on her own as he went to quickly flip a couple of crepes over, so that they wouldn't get burned. He saw Simone and gave her a wide grin, beckoning her over. As she sleepily stumbled towards the cheery, and fully awake warlock, the song in the background switched. Nah Neh Nah began playing and Dan grabbed Simone's arm, pulling her into an unexpected and rather clumsy dance. Eve took over the pan, still moving her feet and hips in the rhythm, singing.

Dan clearly knew what he was doing with the dance, but Simone was utterly lost. She stumbled and stepped on his feet with her bare ones as she attempted to follow. Dan was singing along, grinning, and twirling the confused and now awake witch with ease. He dipped her quickly, making her laugh as well. Then, the warlock switched out with Eve, who readily caught her Goddaughter for the second dance. This time, Ain't No Mountain High Enough began playing, each line and note familiar to the teenage witch, who joined into the morning cheer.

When they finally sat down for breakfast together, a rarity at the Inn, Simone was fully awake, exhausted and quite content. Her cheeks were hurting from how much she had been smiling and laughing and she felt like nothing could bring her down. Crepes were eaten rather quickly, the meal full of Dan's jokes and Eve's stories of weird guests from the Inn.

"Now then, shall we get you ready for school?" Eve grinned, getting up and skillfully evading the dishes duty. Simone got up as well, following the excited witch who rushed upstairs. She could hear Dan protesting the dishes duty all the way to the third floor.

When Simone opened her room door, she could see Eve rummaging through her wardrobe, her heels clicking as she moved and all the bangles jingling. The witch was sifting through the various outfits on different hangers, a myriad of expressions changing on her face.

"Hop into the shower, why don't you?" The blonde suggested, her voice a tad muffled from her position almost inside the girl's wardrobe. "You still have fifteen minutes for that." Eve's head appeared once more with a wide smile, her gentle aura spreading. Simone found herself mute, only nodding and taking her towel to obey.

When she returned a little later, her Godmother was missing, but there were some clothes on her bed. There were plain black nylon tights, a tank top in the same color, along with her Dr. Marten's next to the bed. A short leather jacket, in black, was positioned there carefully as well. A small bottle was on her nightstand, in her favorite pale, cornflower blue.

As soon as Simone slipped on her underwear for the day, in black, Eve entered without knocking. "Oh, good." She exclaimed happily and hung a hanger on the wardrobe door, displaying the dress. "I found something that I bought some years ago and ended up never wearing. What do you think?" The dress was adorable. It was short, not even nearly reaching the knees. The dress was in burgundy, with double fabric in the same color, a layer of lace on top. The sleeves were long, completely in lace.

"It's beautiful." Simone exclaimed, forgetting for a moment that she was almost nude. She walked over and touched the dress gently. It was like from a magazine. Like directly from a model. But, Simone knew better. The clothes on the model and the clothes on her didn't look the same. The dress was beautiful, but she wasn't. She couldn't carry it properly. "I really can't." The young witch said, pulling her hand back.

"Nonsense." The blonde witch waved off the polite rejection, smiling gently. "Shall we do it like this," When Simone didn't respond, Eve softly compromised. "I'll put everything on and get you all dressed up, leaving enough time for you to change if you don't like it." There was a small pause where Eve simply beamed, spreading her joyful Disney princess aura shamelessly. Simone caved.

"Alright." The girl finally said. Eve perked up, hopping up and down with joy and clapped her hands a couple of times in excitement.

"Here, tie up your hair." The blonde witch passed her Goddaughter a hair tie, rushing outside the room. "Put the tights on, too!" Simone obeyed the yell, pulling her hair up and then going over to her bed. By the time she was struggling with the nylon tights, which weren't her first clothing choice, as they tended to slide down a lot, Eve came back. She was carrying a metal chest of sorts, which she placed on Simone's desk.

"Isn't this a tad too short?" The teenage witch asked, attempting to pull the tank top further down. Unfortunately, it barely reached her hips, much less went over the rim of her underwear like she preferred.

"It's fine, trust me." Eve commented, taking the dress off the hanger and taking it to her Goddaughter. She slipped it on as soon as Simone put her hands up. Then, the witch zipped it up carefully and let the teen's hair down. "Oh, just beautiful." Eve whispered, smiling. "I'm so jealous that your mom got a daughter first." The witch smiled, running her fingers through the long, blonde hair before she begun braiding it.

"How did you meet my mom?" Simone asked, waiting for the hairstyle to be ready. The dress was comfortable, despite the fact that it was quite snug. The tulle underneath the skirt made the dress flare out naturally, which was quite fairytale like. Simone felt like a princess, which wasn't something that the witch could often say about herself.

"We got to know each other during high school." Eve spoke as she continued braiding. "Cath was a right pain in the ass, I tell you. She was a know-it-all, goody two shoes." With a sigh and a smile, the witch finished the braid, tying it off. "But, I loved her. It was because we were so different that we got along so well." Eve fumbled with something before tugging at her Goddaughter's hair a tad and then exclaimed happily. "There, perfect."

"Should I put my shoes on?" Simone asked and after receiving a nod, bent down to do so. It took her Godmother around fifteen more minutes of fussing around her, doing her make-up (light with natural products) and choosing jewelry from the metal chest, to finish the whole 'second day of school' project. When the witch finally stepped away, Simone let out a sigh of relief. Her mother had done these kinds of things quite a long time ago, when Simone had been a child. She couldn't really say that she missed it.

"Here we go." Eve picked up the blue bottle from the table, spraying the perfume on the teen. "Take a look." And the witch pushed Simone in front of the mirror on the inside of her wardrobe's door, the cloud of perfume following the young witch.

Simone gasped. She couldn't believe that that girl in the mirror was her. The tights and the sleeves covered her gangly limbs, making them look rather elegant. The scoop neckline was soft, accenting her medium sized chest nicely. Her hair was neat, falling loosely down her shoulders and back. The waterfall braids that Eve had made were tied together with a maroon ribbon in the back. The dress was snug on her, yet she couldn't see the fat on her stomach that she usually did. Simone turned, looking at her waist from the side and then made a sitting motion. It was just to prove her point, she assured herself. If she went to school in this she would have to spend some time sitting, after all. The dress bunched up, but not in an ugly, size too small, way.

The teen straightened once more, looking at her face now. Her eyes were accented gently and her lips were redder, but still without any lipstick. Even her skin seemed not to be that pale. The only piece of jewelry that she had on was a simple necklace with a blue gem on the chain, matching her icy eyes. It was perfect. She felt confident. Powerful. She felt like a witch.

"What do you think?" Eve brought Simone back into reality, the warm vanilla scent still strong in the air. Her Godmother touched her shoulders gently, coming up behind her and smiling at their reflections.

"Thank you." Eve grinned even wider.

* * *

Daniel was waiting in the hall next to the entrance when he heard them. The girlish giggling that he had become quite accustomed to hearing from Eve, but not really from Simone. Daniel liked the teenage witch exactly like she was. Meek, shy and more than a little embarrassed. But, when you dug a little deeper, you found that she also had sass and sarcasm, along with an iron will and a fiery temper. The warlock had only experienced Simone's rage once, and thankfully, it hadn't been directed at him.

It was in the first few days, when she had been frequently phoning her mother and father. She had spent at least an hour describing the journey to Mrs. Jones, before carrying the phone around, showing the older witch the inside and outside of the Lighthouse Inn. What Dan, an unsuspecting passerby at the time, hadn't expected was a shouting match which occurred after the grand tour was done. He couldn't really remember how the fight between mother and daughter had started, but it had ended with a cut-off call and an angry teenage witch stuffing her face with honey as the lights flickered in the kitchen.

So, yes, Dan liked Simone just how she was. She wasn't a shallow, 'look at me', kind of girl, which he was so used to seeing. Nor was she the gothic and rock boyish type, which he was used to hanging around with. Simone was Simone, and he would do anything to make sure that she kept her gentle and sweet side while living in Beacon Hills.

"So?" Eve piped up and Daniel realized that he had been staring at his phone aimlessly. "What do you think?" He looked up and wow. The awkward, overalls girl that had arrived to their home was no more.

"Damn." He commented with a whistle. "You look hot." The warlock smirked at the blush that colored Simone's cheeks, but she didn't avert her eyes, like she usually did. Instead, she stared right at him with her icy eyes, as if to prove that she was strong. Well, after the disastrous first day at school which both Eve and Dan had guessed happened, she needed a bit of a confidence boost. This morning's pampering also wasn't doing any harm.

"Thank you." Simone said, her voice strong and even, but her fingers were twirling a piece of her hair. It was giving her nervousness away. She was absolutely adorable, Dan decided. More footsteps sounded from the stairs and the Meyers family came downstairs, along with their son Thomas, a young lad who was rather enamored with Simone.

"Oh, Simone, darling!" Mrs. Meyers commented in her high-pitched, sugary tone. She urged the witch to turn in a circle, so that she could see the full outfit. Simone seemed a tad uncomfortable, but she did obey, twirling. Eve smiled in a way that Daniel recognized. She was itching to do this again sometime soon. "Off to school, are you?" Mrs. Meyers continued, grinning happily. When Simone nodded the lady grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him towards the kitchen. "Well, we shouldn't hold you up then, darling! Let us grab some breakfast, honey." When her son didn't follow she hissed. "Thomas!" The boy rushed after them, telling his mother how he was going to marry Simone.

"So, I suppose that you aren't going incognito anymore?" The warlock asked, twirling his bike keys around his finger.

"Signor Ezio is ready to have a bounty." The witch replied, shocking Daniel with her gaming reference.

* * *

Simone didn't know why, but she didn't feel awkward. Maybe it had been the bike ride? Or all the looks and hushed whispers when Dan had helped her off Tomoe, his precious Kawasaki? She felt like she did while doing a spell or a brew. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her magic was thrumming in the back of her head, a strong assurance that she was safe. She remembered what her grandmother had told her while they were cooking, their favorite activity together. _There is magic in everything. In this cake. In your school. In everything. You simply need to know where to look. In the end, magic is simply a higher understanding of Nature._

She was ready.

Simone pushed the metal double doors of the school building open. She walked to her locker first, choosing to leave most of her stuff in there, along with her lunch. This time, she was going to keep those sandwiches safe. They did look more than delicious, after all. The trip to her Trig classroom was full of looks and glances, but Simone took a deep breath and raised her head, as if she was on a walkway. She imagined herself back at the Foresters' library, reading about spells and potions. There, she was comfortable.

Surprisingly, the day went rather normally, or, as normally as Simone wanted it to go. Mr. Roberts, her math teacher, had finally remembered to introduce her as the new student and she had gotten her three seconds of introduction before sinking back into her seat. She had felt the gaze of the skater girl in front of her, but it wasn't too menacing. Rather, it seemed like the girl was contemplating something.

It wasn't until her third period, chemistry with Mr. Hellish that Hell really descended. Professor Snape really seemed to be out to get her. First, he had given a syllabus on the things that they were already 'supposed to know. Cue, input just about every single formula for chemistry that you can think of. But, Simone was smart. At least, smart about Chemistry.

The actual destruction came about forty-five minutes later, when Mr. Harris decided to assign the first homework of the semester. It was a group project and he began reading names off of a list, making those teams. Unluckily for Simone, her name was read together with Griffith, Martin and Harlowe. She recognized only one, but even that was enough.

The skater girl from Trig had turned in her seat, on the opposite side of the classroom and given her a look that Simone really couldn't identify. After the period was over, everyone went over to their groups, including the young witch. She uneasily stumbled over to the skater girl's desk, attempting to look as small as possible, despite all the confidence that she had gotten with her Godmother's makeover.

"Hi!" The black girl with a ponytail who was talking with the tan skater greeted with a smile. "You're in our group, I take it?" Simone managed a nod.

"She's in my Trig class." The tan skater girl said flatly.

"You already know each other? Great!" The black teen seemed enthusiastic, but generally friendly. Mrs. Jones wouldn't approve, Simone knew. Her mother always said that the Craft and Voodoo should not mix under any circumstances, but the young witch didn't share her views. Being black didn't mean that one was a Voodoo practitioner. "I'm Rebecca Harlowe." The girl extended her hand, shaking Simone's. "But everybody just calls me Harley."

"Simone Jones." The witch murmured. Harley and the skater girl continued their chat, something about a girl named Emma and her boyfriend. Simone felt like the ultimate third wheel, not really sure what to do with herself. She had no idea who Emma was, much less anything about her boyfriend.

Then, another person joined them. "When are you meeting to do the assignment?" A girl with red hair successfully interrupted the chat, killing it. Before anyone had had the chance to say anything, she continued. "It can't be tomorrow, because I have an appointment at the salon, and it can't be Friday."

"I'm sorry, I have-" Harley began, but didn't get far.

"Oh, and Thursday is lacrosse practice!" The redhead giggled to herself, as if she had just made a silly mistake and shrugged cutely. There was a clattering sound on the other side of the classroom, causing Harley and Simone to look, but the newcomer and skater girl remained in a deadly eye lock. "I suppose that you will have to do it by yourselves then?" Somehow, the weekend wasn't even in this girl's plans as a schoolwork day. The redhead gave them a quick, fake smile, and then turned around with a flip of her hair, walking off. A cloud of expensive perfume was left in her wake.

"Lydia fucking Martin." Skater girl commented. "Just our luck, right?" Harley nodded, a little sadly. She gave a sigh and then grinned brightly at both girls.

"I guess it's just us then?" She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and gave a nod to both of them. "We can meet tomorrow at my place and start working?" But, before Simone could ask about her address or phone number, Harley rushed out. Skater girl gave her a look and then stood, taking her stuff.

She lingered at the door, noticing that Simone was still standing next to the desk. "Well? Are you coming to Economics?" The tan girl asked in an irritated tone. Simone scrambled to follow her.

* * *

After dinner, Simone couldn't help it. She had spent two days working on school things. Well, less than two days. Let's say a day and a half. After finally being able to scratch the surface of magic, she was hungry for more. After all, she had dreamed of that for years. Years of her mother and grandmother quarrelling about whether Simone would or wouldn't become a member of a Coven. It was suffocating. But now. Now the teen was living with a witch, a warlock, a myriad of different supernaturals coming and going, and most importantly, she had free access to a basement library full of magic books.

The Forester library. It was by no means complete, but it was still vast. The room was the size of almost the whole basement, filled with old bookshelves and rows and rows of tomes. Some were about magic, some were about life, and others were popular books of the century. Simone had been shocked to find a whole _Harry Potter_ series, signed by the author herself, among the fantasy genre.

The young witch had become familiar with the place since her arrival to the Lighthouse Inn. There was an old, heavy desk in the middle of the library, where she preferred to do her reading and note-taking. The two comfortable sofa chairs were positioned perfectly under the lamp, so that one could read in absolute peace.

Simone had waited for everyone to fall asleep. She had always felt awkward around people. She felt like she was being watched and judged. She would spend more time staring at something and wondering if she should do it or not, than actually doing the desired action. But, as soon as she was alone, it was like someone would pull off a heavy curtain of anxiety off of her and she was able to be herself. So, the young witch waited for the night to fall before creeping down the stairs and into the basement. Minuit hadn't been too happy about being left in her room alone, but he had complied.

The young witch wandered through the rows, looking for a book that she wanted to start with. Then, one caught her eye. It was a book which she had already looked at. And, it had been on her mind ever since. "Battle magic." Simone slid the tome off the shelf placing it on the table and began reading.

The first ten pages spoke of some sort of energy which was inside each witch or warlock. Simone understood only parts of it, as some of the text was in Latin, as well. But, there was a hand-written note on the side and she managed to decipher the scribble. _Magicka_ , it said. Simone had surely never heard of that before, but, she wasn't really the expert. She considered going to Dan or Eve about the book, but it didn't feel right. Battle magic did _not_ sound like something that her Godmother would approve of. Even Dan, who was a really cool guy, had his moments of over-protectiveness. He even insisted on helping her off of his precious bike, Tomoe, for Simone's own or Tomoe's sake, she wasn't sure. Regardless, she was keeping the little infatuation a secret.

She continued skimming through the readable parts of the book. A couple of pages were missing, she could see the ends of them where they had been ripped out. The teen skipped that and continued. The book next spoke of the origin of the battle magic within the martial arts somewhere in the East. Simone was so involved in the tale that she didn't notice the passage of time. When she finally looked up, her eyes stinging from the long reading, the sky was slowly lighting up though the tiny, basement window.

She cursed inwardly, a thing that wasn't really in her vocabulary and scrambled to put the book back into its place. Tomorrow, she told herself. She would continue reading tomorrow. After all, she was only on page forty, and the book had at least two hundred by the size of it. Hopefully, after reading the introduction and explanations, the battle magic would work when she tried it.

Her thoughts wandered to the night before, when her own body had betrayed her, leading her to the literal edge. She could still see the hunched form in the clearing, illuminated by lightning. She knew, by the size of the trees around it just how big it was. Just how dangerous. The mere thought of it made hairs on the back of her neck stand. And that did not happen often. It had happened only once before. An event which she had been too young to understand but would follow her forever. Simone would never doubt her instincts. And her instincts, her magic, it was telling her that the time for battle magic would come soon.

**That's all folks! I hope you enjoyed!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some random info, as always:
> 
> \- Simone has anxiety  
> \- Harley (Rebecca Harlowe) was supposed to be a character in TW, she appears in the 1st episode and then some  
> \- Evangeline and Catherine are not the same age, Evangeline is younger  
> \- 'Signor Ezio' refers to Ezio Auditore da Firenze, a character from Assassin's Creed II  
> \- Evangeline forced Daniel to take salsa lessons with her, that's why he can dance so well
> 
>  
> 
> Extra
> 
> Scott was talking to the two other members of their Chemistry project group, planning how and when they were going to start the work. Fortunately, Martinez, a sophomore in the team was also a lacrosse player, hence, he was able to convince the group to meet when it was convenient for everybody.
> 
> Just as the other two left, he turned to Stiles, only to find him more than occupied. The boy was looking, well, staring actually, at the girls across the room. Scott, bless his soul, didn't even need to look to see the object of his best friend's obsession. Well, Stiles would argue that it was a simple attention, but the teen werewolf knew better.
> 
> "Stiles." He hissed. "Let's go."
> 
> "I wasn't staring." Stiles defended, his eyes still glued to the wonder that was Lydia Martin. "I'm not staring." He repeated, once Scott rolled his eyes, as if he could see it.
> 
> "I'm leaving you, Stiles." The teen werewolf called out, smirking in amusement when his friend began packing blindly, his eyes still glued to the object of his affections. Scott had finally had enough and pulled his best friend out of his seat, the latter's limbs flailing comically, gaining quite a few looks.
> 
> "I will have you know that I was not staring." Stiles repeated for good measure as they left the classroom.


	11. Nicknames

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Nicknames**

"No way!" Simone complained with a laugh.

"Why are you doubting me?" Dan complained, raising his arms in a questioning motion. He was following the witch. "If I say I can do it, I can do it." The two entered the kitchen, the warlock rushing after the witch.

"I'm just saying that it is highly unlikely that you know the whole way to Beacon Hills by heart." Simone grumbled, grabbing a pre-made sandwich and pushing herself onto one of the stools. Dan came to the other side of the counter, leaning on his elbows and smirking.

"Highly unlikely is not impossible." He smirked even wider. "And let me tell you…" He paused dramatically. "I've already done the impossible." The warlock bragged.

"You are so silly sometimes, Dan." The young witch shook her head, giving up. Simone then paused, smirked as well, an expression that utterly confused Dan, as it wasn't a usual one on her face. The teen leaned in. "Say, do you have a candle?" She asked.

"That's beside the point…" The warlock sounded confused, but he did reach into one of the counter drawers, getting a small, black candle and placing it in front of the girl. "Which spell are you doing?" Of course he knew, Simone thought. After all, which witch asked for a candle without wanting to do a spell.

"Just a simple good luck on my necklace gem." Simone slipped the pendant off of her neck before holding it up, showing the warlock the swinging ice blue gem. "You have a light?"

"Sure." Dan trailed off at the end, snapping his fingers to light the candle. "You should be careful with luck spells, Simone. They can be rather-" The warlock watched as the witch placed the swinging gem above the flame, chanting as it circled around the heat. "Unpredictable." Dan finished, already regretting that he had allowed her to do the spell. Hell, she wasn't even listening to him.

Simone finished her third chanting and then blew out the candle, breathing in the smoke. "There we go." She grinned at Dan happily. And who was he to squish all that happiness. Dan let out a sigh, placing the candle back underneath the counter. "I'm going after school to my friend's place, to work on a project." The witch explained. "And there's this other girl coming, who really doesn't like me, so I felt like I needed some more luck, right?"

"Right." The warlock shifted as he agreed with her uneasily. He could remember his own first good luck spell. To say that it had backfired would be an understatement. But, before Dan could interrupt Simone's oblivious eating, Eve came downstairs, putting on the only apron they owned, a pink one.

"Oh, you look cute!" She commented before planting a kiss on Dan's and then Simone's, full of food, cheek. "I was right to choose that jacket, right?"

"It's a hoodie." Dan and Simone said at the same time. Before she could react, he managed to tap her arm and yell. "Jinx!" She tried to pass it onto Eve, but the woman already had her fingers crossed.

"It looks like a light jacket to me…" The older witch complained, pouring oil onto the pan to start frying the bacon for the guests. She had put together an outfit the night before for her Goddaughter, and they had left on a hanger. The teenager had insisted wearing a loose band T-shirt, rather than the tight one that Eve had picked, much to her Godmother's disappointment. "Don't you two need to get going?" The witch asked.

"Shoot." Dan commented, grabbing his keys and stealing a piece of bacon from the pan. "Well, now I can show you."

"Show who what?" Eve wondered out loud, slapping Dan's hand once it went for the pan again. Simone rolled her eyes, slipping of the barstool and getting her bag.

"Daniel believes that he knows the road from here to Beacon High by heart." She said flatly, unamused. "Completely." Eve seemed to be thinking about it for a second. "You think that he does?"

"Well, he has driven it so many times." Eve said softly as Dan's smirk widened.

"Oh, come on!" Simone groaned. She went for the door, not waiting for the smug warlock. He managed to catch up to her once she reached Tomoe. Not like she could've gone anywhere without him anyways. Dan tossed the teen a helmet, putting his own on and then sat onto his bike. Once she was on as well, he turned to her, smiling.

"Look, I'll prove it to you." He said. "I bet that I can drive the whole way with my eyes closed." The warlock bargained.

"That's ridiculous, Daniel."

"I dare you." The warlock was adamant. "Cover my eyes with your hands." He said, turning the key and revving the gas. "I dare you, chicken." He made a flapping motion with his elbows and let out a couple of suspiciously chicken-like sounds.

Simone snapped.

* * *

If Mrs. Jones could see her, the woman would kill her. And then probably bring her back just to kill her again. Simone was gripping the bike with her legs as tightly as possible, so that she wouldn't fall off. Her whole body was pressed against Dan's, her cold, trembling hands covering his eyes around the helmet. The warlock, on the other hand, was driving, without missing one sign, one turn or a single bump. He was executing a perfect ride, and the witch was in complete disbelief.

She really didn't know what had come over her. Simone was by no means a girl who liked extremes. Maybe it was because of her recently charmed good luck necklace? But, she doubted it. There was something very wrong with her. It was like she had gone insane and her body was making random decisions without asking her mind first.

Then again, it was fun. More than fun. It was exhilarating. She was having an _absolute_ blast. Dan was driving slower than usual, probably because she was behind him, terrified of falling off. She could see in his confident turns that he knew the road. He knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, her body was still flooded with adrenaline, her fingers shaking. Simone was smiling widely at the insanity of the situation.

Before long, as the Inn was quite close to the school, Daniel stopped just before entering the parking. When his legs touched the ground, Simone allowed her hands to fall as well, her whole body shaking from the aftermath of the extreme ride. Dan turned, smug.

"I win." He told her with a grin.

"We are both insane." The witch exclaimed with a shaky laugh, handing him the second helmet back.

* * *

This wasn't going as planned. Simone had expected everything, the boring lectures, the annoying teenagers, the added homework and the irritating chatter. But, she hadn't been prepared for the afterschool lacrosse. She had thought that they would be going to Harley's to do their group work, but it turned out that she had planned to watch the boys practicing first. She'd told them something about her friends being on the team and pushed Simone and skater girl to the stands.

"Harley?" Simone called out, getting the black girl's attention. "Who are your friends?"

The girl didn't move her eyes from the field where a bunch of guys were literally murdering each other over a ball. But, she extended her finger, pointing at the person in the goal first, listing. "The guy in the goal, Danny. He's very cool and quite a catch, but he's gay, as most guys like that are."

"Ouch." The skater girl inputted, flinching as one of the guys got knocked off of his feet completely, flying to the ground with a loud sound. "That looked rather painful, no?"

"And this is just practice?" Simone murmured, but skater girl obviously heard her.

"You should see the games." She laughed. "They tend to get pretty brutal." Simone cringed as yet another player flew onto the ground, his shot being stopped completely.

"That's also my friend, Jackson. At least I think that we're friends." Harley said, ending her sentence with uncertainty in her tone.

"The one on the ground?" Wondered the teen witch, worried.

"The one doing the slamming." Laughed Harley. "And, the one on the ground as well. But, that's Scott. Him, I'm definitely friends with. Like, since diapers." The girl turned to the teen next to her, finally taking her eyes off the court. "Don't you know him? He's in our Chem class as well?"

"Oh…" The blonde witch looked out at the field, trying to make out the face of the player who was picking himself off the floor. He seemed to be in pain.

"Oh, and I also know that guy on the bench, Stiles." Harley added, pointing at the awkward looking teen who was bouncing his leg up and down nervously. "He has a lot of classes with Scott. They are best friends."

"He is weird." Skater girl said without skipping a beat. "Jumpy."

A brief exchange of glances between Simone and Harley brought the end of that conversation. They stayed silent until the end of the practice, watching and cheering. Surprisingly, the game was over quickly, and many shouts from Coach Finstock later, Harley stood, clapping as the players walked away towards their changing rooms.

"Shall we?" Asked skater girl, leading them away from the bleachers with an annoyed face. As soon as they were clear of the grass, she threw her skateboard on the ground and jumped on it, doing a couple of simple tricks just to pass the journey.

"Oh, come on, Rory, it wasn't _that_ bad." Harley complained. After she received an eye roll she smirked. "I remember when you used to play lacrosse, you know."

"Oh my God, _no_!" Skater girl jumped off of her board, turning around and looking just about ready to pummel someone. "We do _not_ talk about that, Harley!"

* * *

Harley's house was wonderfully normal. In all honesty, it reminded Simone of her own home, back in Colorado. She supposed that the small amount of time which she had spent at the Inn was making her rather homesick. But, between magic, preparing the shop for work and welcoming different guests Simone hadn't had the chance to properly go through a 'homesickness phase'. She had had a couple of moments where she had stared at her phone longingly around one or two in the morning, wondering if she should call her family. But, she had always deemed it too late to wake them up.

Harley's mom, a pretty woman in her forties had welcomed them in before rushing off to a second shift at work. She was a nurse at the Beacon Memorial, a nearby hospital. The three girls had gone up to the teen's room to begin working. It was much girlier than the young witch had expected, full with a pale pink cover on the bed. The black girl had shied away, getting flustered and telling them not to mind the old sheets.

Unsurprisingly, their schoolwork lasted less than an hour and pretty soon Harley had brought some snacks and drinks and the girls were looking through the yearbook from last year, introducing Simone to the population of Beacon High. The witch was quite surprised to find out that Miss Griffith's first name (which she had been feeling too awkward to ask about) was Aurora, which she shortened to Rory. Unfortunately for her, the editors of the book didn't care much, and they had put the whole name.

"Look at this." Rory exclaimed with a huff of exasperation. "They allowed him to do it, why not me?" The skater girl threw the book over to Harley, who was sitting next to Simone on the comfortable bed. The two looked over, noticing the picture immediately. After all, it had a couple of scratched out sentences underneath it, where the boy had signed his name and good wishes. In the end, it read: _Stay awesome,_ and then a shaky arrow looped to the name under the picture. _Stiles_.

"His name is Stiles?" Asked Simone, frowning. Who in the world named their kid Stiles? She wondered. Harley laughed, falling back onto the bed and Rory simply gave a snort.

"Hell no. That little bitch has some weird ass name. But, his last name is Stilinski, so, they call him Stiles." The girl explained, cussing a bit too much for the witch's liking. The last name did ring a bell, among all the other surnames that she had recorded into the Inn ledger. Stilinski, she wondered and then remembered. The Sheriff of the town was named Stilinski. And, as Dan had said, and she had seen, his son was her age. Her year, even.

"Nah, he calls _himself_ Stiles." Harley laughed. "Everybody else just caught on."

"You mean, people who know that he exists." Rory turned in the computer chair, going to the laptop on the desk and typing away into the YouTube. "He's a real weirdo."

"You'd be surprised by how many people are friends with him, Rory." Harley had gotten mad. Simone could feel it. The magic in her head was thrumming at the upset mood in the room, watching out for danger. But, the black girl did nothing more than glare at the skater girl. When she got ignored, she spoke once more. "He's a good guy. We've been friends for ages."

"He's a good stalker for Lydia Martin, you mean." Rory laughed out.

"He's my friend." Harley's tone had taken a dangerous edge and the skater girl got up, not even looking at them as she grabbed her glass.

"I need some water." And she went out of the room and towards the kitchen. Harley huffed, closing the yearbook and obscuring the strange expression that her childhood friend had made on his picture. She turned to Simone next.

"I'm sorry about her. Other people at the school are much friendlier, I promise." The black girl placed the yearbook back on its shelf, sinking into her computer chair. "Rory is a bit weird, though." When the blonde didn't say anything, opting to twirl a lock of her hair in silence, the black girl continued. "She's adopted, you know, so she has some issues. Apparently, her folks got a son shortly after they took her from the orphanage. She's always had some behavioral problems."

"I see." The witch said, not really sure what else to input. Was this gossip? She didn't know. Harley seemed like a really nice girl to her, not someone who would badmouth a friend. Then again, Rory didn't really seem like she was the black girl's friend. In fact, she didn't seem like she was anyone's friend. She had one too many opinions and swear words on her tongue.

"Shall we finish this part and then call it a day?" Harley smiled, showing her white, perfect teeth. "After all, we do have until Monday and I'm not really in a rush to do this assignment." And just like that, the awkward and uncomfortable atmosphere in the room was gone. Simone felt the thrumming in her head ease off and she, too, let out a small smile.

"I'll go get Rory."

The teen witch found the tan skater girl doing the small amount of dishes that the three had dirtied, along with a few leftover pots from the Harlowes' lunch. Rory turned as soon as she heard her enter and then turned back to finish her rinsing.

"W-we decided to do some more work and then call it a day." The blonde awkwardly said, twiddling her thumbs. "Is that ok with you?"

"Whatever." The skater girl huffed, drying off the dishes and putting them in a neat pile on the counter. Simone leaned on the doorway, crossing her legs at the ankles and waiting for the other teen. There were a couple of minutes of silence that made the witch uncomfortable as Rory dried off the dishes. Then, with a sigh, the tan girl turned to her. "Look, I was a bitch to you. I didn't know you were new." She said as if that explained everything. "I hope you like Beacon Hills regardless of my assholeish welcome."

Simone managed a small nod, a little relieved. "It's fine, don't worry." She then managed a tiny grin as she thought of Dan and Eve. "Beacon Hills is pretty cool, I must admit."

The smile that Rory gave her was well worth the pain of the first day and the detention.

* * *

The next day after class, Simone wondered into the school's library, searching for a book which was needed for her assignment. As she browsed through the shelves, looking for the right title, she noticed a shifty, familiar teen, stressing as he read on the floor. He was sitting crisscross, different books open around him, his leg bouncing.

Just as Simone approached him, his row of books really, the teen slammed his book closed, getting up. He was murmuring something under his breath. As soon as he turned around, Simone managed to realize why he was so familiar. It was Stilinski. The Sheriff's son. He almost crashed into the witch and then stopped, opening his mouth soundlessly. He looked a little distraught.

"Sorry." The boy managed.

Simone felt her face coloring and she looked down, finding her Dr. Marten's interesting. "It's nothing." She said. "It's not like you crashed into me or anything." The witch side-stepped him and walked to the shelves, quickly finding the book that she was looking for. She pulled it off of the shelf, opening it and sitting down on the ground as well. She could feel the gaze of the boy behind her, building a pressure in her head that had nothing to do with magic. The girl hurried to copy the couple of sentences which she needed for the assignment.

"I'm Stiles." The teenager behind her finally said, coming to sit back in his little circle of books. Simone glanced back, a blush still on her cheeks.

"I know." She told him, and red splotches appeared on his cheeks, as if he was shocked that she knew his name. "Simone."

"That's a pretty name." He looked ready to punch himself in the face after he said it, making Simone giggle. Why in the world did she produce that noise? She asked herself. She most certainly did not laugh like that in front of Dan. It was like… she was trying to be cute.

"I don't like it much." She said, still looking at him through the curtain of her hair. "It's old fashioned."

"It is a bit of a grandma name. Not that you're a-a… That came out wrong." He decided on, finally dropping his head into his hands. "Sorry." Simone couldn't help letting out a laugh and immediately got shushed by the nearby students, blushing even more. Yet, the grin that Stiles gave her was worth it. She recalled that Rory had told her how Stilinski was a strange boy, but, she didn't really care. It was an endearing kind of strange. "Hey, I got a nickname." The teenager said once more, and then explained further nervously. "You know, cause I prefer not to be called by my name. So, it's just Stiles."

"I know." The witch repeated. "I've never been given a nickname, though." She shrugged and went back to her book. The conversation died there and Simone cursed herself. Here she was, talking to a guy, finally, and nothing. She had killed the conversation once more. The magic responded to her emotions instantly, thrumming in the back of her head. Simone cursed herself, but then caught sight of the blue gem of the necklace lying on top of her band shirt. "What are you reading about?" She asked Stiles, glancing at his pile of books.

The boy shifted nervously, closing the book instantly and scratching his head. "N-nothing. You know- er- wolves." He seemed to regret saying that and shut his eyes briefly. "Just… you know… wolves." When the girl tossed him a questioning glance, he continued. "You know that girl that was killed?"

"A girl was killed?" Simone closed her book, turning fully towards the boy, interested. Her mind had immediately gone to the hunched shape in the darkness, illuminated by lightning. "How? When?"

"Why did you think that we have a curfew?" Stiles seemed genuinely shocked.

"Curfew?" Eve had told her nothing about curfew. Then again, it wasn't like Simone really went anywhere except the school and the Inn. She was always accompanied by Dan or Eve and both of them were capable in the art of magic. It would be really difficult for an everyday, non-supernatural killer to catch either of them off guard.

"Yeah. There is one for everyone under eighteen. Two joggers found a body in the woods. It's still a Jane Doe." Stiles explained. Simone figured that he knew the details because he was the Sheriff's son and nodded.

"That's awful." She said. "That no-one misses you enough to notice that you are missing." Now, _that_ statement killed the conversation. The two teens sat in morbid silence for a moment. Then, Stiles's phone buzzed and he jumped a bit, fishing it out of his pocket and reading the message. Simone, too, seemed to snap out of it and closed her book. She got up and placed it back on the shelf, before turning to leave. "I need to go, sorry. It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, uh, nice meeting you, too!" Stiles got shushed as Simone was leaving the rows of books with a smile. Sure, she's told Dan that she wouldn't get involved with the Stilinski boy, but there was surely no harm in being friendly?

* * *

It was around nine in the evening and the forest around the Inn became dark and quiet. Not completely, of course, as there were always nocturnal animals flying or running about, hunting. If you stood on the porch of the Lighthouse Inn, you couldn't see a light on the horizon, as the villa had been built in the middle of the forest. The trees were tall enough to obscure any lamps or houses nearby, leaving you feeling like you were alone. Alone in the darkness. Alone in the forest. Simply, alone.

Simone could never stay for long outside during that time of the evening. She would get this antsy feeling, like she was being watched and stare at the shadows for longer than necessary, hoping to make out any sort of a shape. Then she would hurry inside as soon as she looked away from the darkness, as if the lack of her gaze would release the monsters onto her.

Luckily, she hadn't had the watering duty that evening, trading Dan for dishwashing. The guests had all finished dinner and gone to bed or were taking their showers, so the downstairs was free for the owners to dine. Eve had just set the table when Dan came in, washing his hands and inviting Simone to sit down for dinner with a wink. She blushed and lowered herself into her seat.

The first couple of minutes were filled with simple conversation about the food, passing dishes and giving different sauces where they were needed. Soon, Dan complained playfully how he had almost finished their new shop in the center and that all that was left was to stock it properly. Simone had volunteered to help him do that during the weekend, if she didn't have a lot of homework. And then, Simone couldn't really hold her tongue for a moment.

"Aunt Eve, can you tell me about werewolves?" The teenage witch asked timidly. It had been her first question that she had asked herself, out loud, since she had arrived. The first topic that she had suggested. Daniel looked from one witch to the other, seeming mighty uncomfortable. Eve's fork, full of zucchini, slowly lowered itself back onto her plate.

"Why are you asking about them?" The witch wasn't smiling. Somehow, there was something in the air that Simone couldn't quite identify. It was like an energy. Something strong. Something wild. And it made goosbumps appear on the young girl's arms and legs, making her feel cold.

"I was just wondering." Simone said, shrugging as if she wasn't interested. Daniel continued eating. Eve smiled at her Goddaughter, but the young witch didn't feel any comfort. There was no warmth in that smile. It wasn't welcoming. It was simply… cold.

"That's a pretty dull topic for the dinner table, Simone." Eve laughed, going back to her usual self. "Why don't you tell us how your classes went today? Any cute boys?"

As Simone began talking about her day absentmindedly, she couldn't help but notice the way that every single thing about her Godmother, once genuine and warm, now seemed as icy as the Antarctic Ocean.

**That's all folks!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting info for the chapter:
> 
> \- Aurora was not the first child that the Griffith's adopted, she has a brother in college  
> \- Scott, Stiles, Harley and Lydia went to the same kindergarten  
> \- Daniel used to street race when he was younger, he wanted to be a professional racer  
> \- Simone believes that one can find almost all answers in a library


	12. Coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much iamthewhalelord for the kudos!

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Coincidence**

Simone gasped, shooting up in her bed. Minuit jumped off of his position on her chest, meowing disgruntledly as he moved to the spot in front of the door. The witch raked one hand through her messy hair, trying to calm both her breathing and her pounding magic.

"Sorry, Midnight." She told the cat. "Insane dreamwalk." The cat let out a meow, like he understood her, before dozing off. The witch looked out through the window. The first rays of sunlight were slowly peeking over the horizon, lighting up the numerous treetops of the preserve. She pushed the covers off. She knew by now that there would be no sleep after a dreamwalk.

After a quick shower, the blonde witch managed to brush out her hair with the help of a ton of conditioner. It was that kind that you didn't wash out, but put on after a shower and it smelled softly of apricots. After that, she had the hardest part of the morning: choosing an outfit. The young witch was by no means a fashion nut, but since Eve had given her a small makeover, she hadn't been able to forget the way that she had felt in those clothes. A simple, burgundy dress had made her feel like she was untouchable. She wanted to feel that again.

The girl chose dark skinny jeans and a band T-shirt in the end, along with a grey kimono top. After tying her hair behind in a loose ponytail, the teen looked at her desk. A single necklace lay there, silver with a blue gem as a pendant. Eve had given it to her a couple of days ago, to wear with her outfit, and the witch had charmed it the next day. For luck, she'd told herself. Yet, the spell hadn't done her much good. She hadn't had any more or less luck than usual.

After tracing her finger along the necklace, Simone turned away, leaving it on the desk. She had something else that she needed to do before Eve and Dan woke up. The young witch took her Dr. Marten's into her hand, creeping into the hallway slowly. Minuit got up as well, following her in silence. The witch slowly descended the stairs, all four floors, right into the basement. The Inn was deathly silent in the morning light, everyone still asleep.

Simone unlocked her phone as soon as she got to the library, turning on the flashlight. She wouldn't risk turning the lights on. After all, she was about to disobey her Godmother.

The young witch had already familiarized herself with the Forester library, so she skipped the non-supernatural isles and ventured into the ones in the back. She easily found the section for creatures and began browsing. However, there was no 'Werewolves' title. Nothing. Simone bit her lip, going further along, into the magic section. There was nothing.

Then, she spotted a black book with a 'WW' and a full moon on its spine. Pulling it out, the witch opened it, listing through. Alfa, Beta, Omega, she read the descriptions quickly and went further into the tome. Packs. Alfa packs. True Alfa. Pack power. It was borderline fascinating, yet terrifying. If the creature that she had spotted in the woods was an Alfa werewolf, she was pretty much useless against it. At least, with her level of magic.

The girl closed the book and then began looking for the other one, _The Book of Fire_. It wasn't there. Simone felt magic pounding in her head, in alarm. Eve knew. That's why she was so mad last night. She knew that the teen had been studying advanced magic on her own. This had nothing to do with werewolves. Simone was just screwed.

The witch shut the book about werewolves and tucked it under her arm. She covered it with her kimono before sneaking out of the library and towards the staircase.

"Simone!" The cheery and familiar voice of their youngest guest Thomas stopped the witch in her tracks. Her heart was pounding, cold sweat making her AC/DC shirt stick uncomfortably to her back. She managed a smile.

"Hey, Thomas." The blonde replied, just as another figure appeared from the kitchen. It was Dan. "What are you up to?" The warlock was making chocking motions in the background, along with a couple of silly faces. However, Simone knew after his reaction last night, if he saw the book hidden under her left arm, he wouldn't be smiling.

Thomas was chattering something about the rare owl that he had seen last night in the woods of the preserve, but the witch couldn't hear anything that made sense. There was a dull thrum of her own magic in her ears, obscuring everything. Sound vanished completely. She could feel the drop of sweat slowly sliding down her back and into the rim of her jeans. Dan gave a wave and vanished behind the wall back into the kitchen, and the teen allowed the fake smile to slide from her face.

"I'm sorry Thomas." Simone said absent-mindedly. "I need to go… school, you know." And the teen rushed upstairs without waiting for an answer.

* * *

The whistle sounded loudly, before Coach Finstock began yelling unnecessary comments across the court. Simone brushed her hair back for the tenth time, as the breeze was messing it up. She was clutching her bag tightly on her lap, unusually aware of the fact that she had a book there. And not a school book. A book about magic.

Now that she thought the situation through, she probably had done a stupid thing, taking the tome with her. Then again, it would've been worse leaving it in her room, where both Eve and Dan ventured without much reservation. This had been the closest 'safe place' that she could think of at that moment. With her.

Of course, the presence of the book was making her beyond paranoid. Dan had taken her to school, as usual, but it hadn't been enjoyable. Simone had managed to keep a smile on her face, but it wasn't right. She had cleared her thoughts, thinking obsessively about her Chemistry assignment just so the warlock wouldn't find out about the book. When he had asked her about her nervous behavior, she had even managed to brush it off as nerves about the group work.

Unfortunately, Harley had decided to drag the two members of their Chemistry team to lacrosse practice. This had led Simone into her current position of clutching her bag in complete paranoia, as Rory relayed her dull commentary of the game, riddled with swear-words.

The teens in the stands went nuts, jumping up and cheering. Simone looked out to the field to see one of the players getting clapped on the back by his teammates.

"Did you see that?" Harley asked with a happy grin. "Did you?" She turned to Simone and Rory. "Scott is amazing! All that practice is finally paying off!"

"Well… He certainly is something." Rory commented with a frown. She hadn't gotten up from her seat, instead choosing to simply clap from that position. "He sucked pretty bad last year, didn't he?"

"He practiced all summer, Rory." Harley jabbed back, defending her friend. Simone couldn't help but feel like a third wheel. She realized that she often felt like that when the two girls were concerned, as they bickered a lot. Then, they would go back to getting along and gossiping once more. It was strange. Girls were strange.

Practice didn't drag on too long and pretty soon the girls were at Harley's once more, forsaking their assignment in favor of talking about the party. Ah, the party. It wasn't just any party. It was Lydia Martin's party.

You see, the queen bee of Beacon High was not just rich, popular and beautiful. She was also quite the party-maker. Due to the fact that her boyfriend was Jackson Whittemore, the Captain of the lacrosse team, it was only natural that the strawberry blonde would make the best parties. There was either an exclusive invitation list, one that only the members of the 'popular crowd' could decipher, or there was simply an event where everyone who wanted to would come.

The Friday night party was obviously one of the latter ones, as Rory and Harley dug into the black girl's closet, searching for the perfect outfit. "God, no!" The skater tossed a sparkly, mini dress onto the bed where Simone was sitting, looking a little lost.

"Why not?" Harley frowned, turning away from her messy closet.

"It would look like you are wearing a disco ball." Rory snorted, hopping on the bed next to the witch, throwing her head back. "I might just skip the stupid thing anyways."

"That's social suicide." Harley sassed, turning back to her closet and rummaging once more. "I am _not_ committing social suicide just because you 'don't _feel_ like it'." A couple of shirts landed on the bed, the teen rejecting them for being too casual. "How about this?" She showed them a purple sleeveless top with a sweetheart neckline.

"With jeans?" Rory asked, propping herself onto her elbows.

"I think a skirt would go better." Simone piped up, immediately blushing once she got the attention of the two girls. "If you have a short, dark one and some fishnet leggings or something…" The girl trailed off, looking at the ground.

"Surprisingly, you have style for an emo." Harley laughed, turning to her closet to look for the desired items. The look that Rory tossed Simone clearly told the young witch that she actually _knew_ what emo was, unlike their rather peppy friend.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the girls decided to disperse, as Harley had gotten ready for the party. Her hair was down, washed and brushed out, perfectly styled. The wide hoop earrings that her mother had bought for her were on her ears, and a couple of bracelets were jingling on her wrist. Other than that, she had no 'bling', as she called it, and she was perfectly ready for her party. The black girl had refused to wear high heels, gifting the two, not quite interested, teens with a lengthy speech of the oppression of the female gender via shoe wear. In Simone's opinion, it was something that was straight up Rory's feministic alley, which she had confirmed by the smirk on the skater girl's face.

Regardless, the situation had brought the young witch into her current demise. She had told the girls that they could go ahead and that she would phone Dan and simply wait in front of Harley's for him. The girls left her, a little reluctantly, in the quickly darkening evening.

The teen had waited until Harley's car was out of sight before turning and beginning to walk in the opposite direction. She knew the way back to the Inn from her friend's place, as Dan had picked her up on his bike once already. It was a simple path, as it was pretty much just following the highway, so she wasn't worried about getting lost. The only problem was, that the walk would take her at least an hour, if she didn't stop to rest.

Of course, calling Dan wasn't an option. No, not because Simone was paranoid, and she still was, but because he was busy. He had told her to ring Eve when she was done, as he was going with his college buddies somewhere. But, after a single glance at the green _Messages_ app on her phone, the teen had locked the thing and placed it into her pocket once more.

She couldn't call Eve. It wasn't that she didn't trust that her Godmother would come and pick her up. No. It had more to do with the cold air that she still couldn't shake. She knew that her Godmother was a powerful witch. After all, she was the head of one of the most powerful ancient families of witches that could be tracked all the way back to Europe, to the original paganism.

But, she had never thought that the magic would have been directed towards her. Eve had been ready to cast a spell that evening. Simone could tell. It was the hum of her magic. It was like a sensor, like a signal. And during dinner, it had gone off in her head, screaming at her to run. To fight. To do something.

As the teen finally got out of the streets of the town, which had taken her at least half an hour, a chill passed down her spine. As soon as she chose a safe spot along the highway, where the cars wouldn't hit her, she looked up. The moon was full, lighting her way home perfectly. Yet, the woods all around the road seemed menacing, as if they were watching her. Hiding something in their shadows.

Simone's eyes connected to the darkness among the trees on the other side of the road, her paranoia creeping up on her like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Her breathing became shaky and she sped up, not averting her eyes from the shadows. She knew that her fear was irrational. She was still in Beacon Hills, after all. On the other side of the highway, there were roads, houses and lights which were turned on, shining brightly. She was safe, she knew that. Yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling in the pit of her stomach. And if there was one thing that her grandmother had taught her about witches was no always trust her instincts.

With cold, shaky hands, the girl dug through her bag, looking for her headphones. She touched the book about werewolves, relieved that it was still there. It took her three shaky attempts to plug in her headphones, but as soon as the familiar vocals of Taylor Momsen began playing, she calmed down a tad. Yet, the witch couldn't help keeping her eyes on the other side of the highway, on the shadows. Waiting.

After the whole _Light Me Up_ album had played through, the girl reached for her phone, playing some Three Days Grace this time. The drums and the guitar were loud enough to drown out any sounds that Simone had been too terrified to hear. She began thinking that calling Eve wasn't such a bad idea anymore. However, before she could do anything, something moved in her peripheral vision.

She froze and dug into her spot on the deserted highway, staring into the shadows. The teen lowered the volume of her music so that it was almost on mute, and then finally allowed it to go completely silent.

She could hear nothing.

The woods were completely quiet, not even a bird flying or a hoot of an owl to be heard. The moon was still high in the sky, bright, but slowly, the road was going dark. As nothing was moving, Simone chanced a glance at her sole light source, only to see a cloud slowly creeping over it. She cursed inside her head, her heart speeding up. Damn the disagreement, she should've called Eve. The night of the full moon was no time for a walk, the witch had known that before she had learned her ABCs.

Something cracked in the forest and the girl stuffed her phone into her pocket, tossing her messenger bag so that it was on her back, instead of swinging by her side. She extended her hands next, positioning them in a familiar stance that she had practiced in her room. True, the battle magic hadn't worked for her even once, but she was betting on her fear this time. After all, the magic inside of her was a raging storm, building up like a tornado, ready to burst out when she called for it. There was no other way. She would manage the spell somehow and think about the consequences later.

A car horn blared from her left and Simone jumped out of the way, screaming a little. Her heart was beating like it was a little caged bird, and finally, the sound of tires screeching stopped. The blue Jeep that had almost ran her over backed up, the driver bending towards her, lowering the window glass.

"Oh my God!" The familiar voice yelled. "Are you okay? I didn't see you!" As the girl breathlessly nodded, the teenager in the car recognized her. "You're the no-nickname girl. N-no, Simone!" Stiles seemed just as breathless as she was, red blotches on his cheeks. His eyes were wide and he looked rather shifty. "What are you doing out here?"

Obviously, he hadn't inherited any instincts for his father's job, Simone thought. "Walking home." Her voice cracked, her whole body still shaking from the adrenaline of her previous scare. She brushed her messy hair back, licking her shaky lips to moisten them. The woods weren't that silent anymore. She could hear an owl hooting in the distance.

"At this hour?" Stiles asked, then, he turned in his seat rather happily towards her. "Do you need a ride?" After he spoke the words, Simone could see a dilemma clear on his face. He was going somewhere, she figured. She didn't want to bother him. Heck, she barely knew him. Then again, she also didn't want to stay in the woods.

"Are you offering?" She scooted away from the edge of the highway and towards the car door, looking out to the woods behind the boy nervously. They needed to get out of there. Now.

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, then hit the steering wheel in some form of weird agony and then broke. "You don't have a curfew or anything, right? I just need to make a tiny stop before I drop you off." He didn't let her answer before he continued babbling. "Wherever you want, of course, no problem. It doesn't matter if you're going home or to your boyfriend's or… Well, you get the idea." He seemed to want to smack himself and Simone managed a shaky smile despite her panicked state. He was as awkward with girls as she was with guys.

"Not at all. Your car, your rules."

The teen stretched over, opening the door and Simone jumped into her safety space. As she slammed the door closed, she pulled the seat belt around, glancing once more out into the woods. She couldn't see anything except darkness.

Stiles didn't wait for her to buckle up, but floored it, sending the Jeep flying down the road. It was a quick, nervous ride in silence, as the boy was rather tense and Simone was attempting to calm her magic down before it exploded. Stiles drove off the highway and back into the residential area, without even slowing down. His fingers were thrumming against the wheel nervously and he was whispering something that suspiciously sounded like 'come on, come on' over and over under his breath.

Then, the Jeep finally skidded to a stop in front of a large house and the teen flew out of the driver's side of the door, not bothering to close it, and ran to the doorbell. Simone stared, clutching her bag on her lap, as Stiles rang the bell and then pounded on the door impatiently when no-one answered. The witch finally noticed that he was actually wearing a dress shirt, along with a grey blazer. It looked borderline ridiculous with his red converse.

The door opened, a ray of light illuminating the shifty boy who began blabbing something nervously, waving his arms about. Then, the witch noticed that he became still, seeming rather shocked, before touching his head with both arms and laughing. A girl came into the doorway, a very pretty girl mind you, and talked to Stiles for a few moments. He then awkwardly said his goodbyes, even waving at someone behind the teen, before the door closed.

Stiles once more raked his hands through his short hair nervously, and then walked slowly to the Jeep. He entered it through the already open door and sat in his seat for a second, looking rather shocked and more than relieved. Then, he looked to his right, noticing Simone and seemed a bit surprised, as if he had forgotten all about her. He thrummed his fingers awkwardly on the steering wheel before speaking.

"Where to?" The teen started the car, this time driving in a much more sane and relaxed manner, so different from Dan's thrill-ride, and pulled out into the street. Simone then realized that she had no idea what the address of the Inn was and looked down, twirling a piece of her hair nervously.

"I-I don't know the address…" She stammered quietly, the boy straining his ears to hear her. He made an exasperated motion with his hands.

"Can your boyfriend text it to you? Or something?" Stiles slowed down, before stopping at the highway exit.

"I can tell you where to go." Simone looked up, pointing to the highway. "Right here, and then past the end of the town." She explained. After the Jeep moved on its way, she convinced herself to say the sentence that was on her mind. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"I didn't mean it- I wasn't asking yo- You know." He finished lamely and then after a moment of silence spoke again. "There's a rumor, just, that you came here to live with your boyfriend, the one that takes you to school every day." Before Simone could say anything, he continued to blab nervously. "I mean, it's a common rumor, not that that's bad. It's just, not a Lydia Martin rumor." Then he seemed to remember that Simone was fairly new. "You _do_ know who Lydia Martin is, right?"

"The redhead?" The witch asked, remembering the brief encounter with the girl.

"Strawberry blonde." Stiles said. When he noticed Simone's confusion, he clarified. "Her hair is strawberry blonde." An awkward silence ensued and lasted. The witch looked out the window, suddenly much more relaxed. The tension from before had vanished and despite the awkward feel of the atmosphere in the car, she felt comfortable. Stiles made her feel comfortable.

"Right here." Simone pointed at the highway exit and Stiles turned effortlessly. He was a pretty good driver, the teen noted.

"You live at the Lighthouse Inn?" The boy exclaimed in surprise, driving along the dirt road. When Simone nodded, he grinned. "That's wicked! I've always wanted to go there. My dad told me that it was full of spooky things. You ever notice anything strange?" Simone shook her head a bit too quickly, wondering just how many failed spells fiascos had Dan and Eve had at the villa. Then, he laughed. "You do know that there is a rumor about the owner being a witch, right?"

"She's my Godmother."

"Well… That's cool." Stiles nodded a bit awkwardly. "She seems cool." It was a complete and blatant lie, but it made Simone grin.

"Despite the rumor, she is." The teen said as the blue Jeep pulled into the familiar parking lot. She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door, sliding out onto the ground, making the numerous white stones crackle under her Dr. Marten's. "Thanks for the ride, Stiles. I owe you one."

"No, no. Nothing. I mean, it was nothing." The boy smiled as well, with an exaggerated nodding motion. Then, he tapped the wheel once more with his fingers, a nervous habit, and gestured towards the road. "I should- My dad is probably waiting for me." And after one more nod, he started the Jeep.

"See you at school!" Simone waved at the retreating car. The boy stuck his left hand out the window, doing a small salute before driving away. The teenage witch giggled, shaking her head.

She hadn't even managed to climb to the door before it opened, Eve rushing out. She grabbed Simone into a tight hug, enveloping her in the scent of coconut and vanilla. "There you are." She murmured, not letting go. "Goddess, I was so worried. Dan said that you would call, but you didn't." Still hugging her with one arm, the witch led her into the Inn, closing the door behind them. A lone hoot of an owl sounded in the darkness, as if it was cheering at the full moon above it. Silence ensued.

**That's all folks!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Facts for this chapter:
> 
> \- We have officially made it past episode one! From now on, the pace will be a tad faster  
> \- Stiles picks up Simone on his way to check on Allison in Wolf Moon  
> \- There are owls in California, the most common being a barn owl


	13. Silver

**So, I give you,**

**Chapter 13: Silver**

The road was dark, the only thing to be seen the small strip of road in front of the vehicle, lit up by the bright lights of the machine. The forest around the highway was pitch-black, the moon in the covered entirely by a cloud. If you stood still and listened, you could hear everything around you. The small breeze rustling the trees gently. The occasional owl hooting in the distance. The rare deer or doe running in fright. The eerie call of a coyote. Tomoe, the red and black Kawasaki Ninja was running down the highway, as if she were, too, a creature of the dark. Her rider was bent low, his helmet closed, as the bike rushed almost at full speed.

He didn't care much for the nightlife. He knew, that if it came down to it, he would be able to fend off anything in that forest. After all, he had something stronger than claws on his side. He had magic. To possess it in the sense that he did, as a Traditional Crafter, was a fairly rare thing nowadays. He had, luckily, been gifted with the power of his ancestors. It was a mysterious force, an energy that flowed through a person's blood and body. It had a mind of its own. And like any great power, it had a great cost. And if there was one person who knew the cost of magic, it was Daniel King.

The bike slowed down, turning away from the main road and into the woods. The warlock didn't follow a path, nor a trail, but he drove among the trees where he could. He knew the path to his destination by heart, after all, as he had been there numerous times. Soon enough, an old, ruined house came into view. The bike slowed down and then completely stopped in front of it, the young man jumping off. He left his helmet on the seat, knowing that it would only take him a couple of minutes to finish his job.

He climbed onto the ruined patio of the wooden home and walked in. The roof had caved in years ago, the only things still standing the four walls of the small house. It had been a hunter's lodge, used a long time ago, when Beacon Hills still had a good hunting community. Nowadays, it was nobody's property, just an abandoned ruin. But, what an unsuspecting hiker wouldn't know was, that the broken lodge also represented one of the five border tokens.

Dan bent down in the center of the house, where the fireplace used to be and waved his hand above it, chanting under his breath. Pale, almost white, smoke rose from the ashes, swirling in different, beautiful patterns in the air. The warlock frowned, but reached into his pocket, regardless. From there, he brought out a small bundle of herbs, which Eve had given him, and smelled it. Still fresh and full of bay leaves. Their earthy smell was dominant, but he could still detect a couple more distinct scents. Eve really wasn't messing around this time.

"Flamma." He whispered, his breath fogging. The ashes suddenly blazed aflame, burning nothing. There was no wood, no leaves, simply, the flame which was dancing above the ashes, as if it were burning in an invisible hearth. The warlock tossed the bundle of herbs, not really caring that the soft, felt baggie was burning along with its insides. After all, it was a great material for protection spells. Felt was only going to make the barrier stronger. "Sarci." Was the next word that the warlock said, blowing on the flames softly.

The fire vanished, leaving a scented smoke to rise from the ashes. It swirled aimlessly in the lack of wind, before stopping at a certain point. It crawled up, as if there was an invisible wall there, trapping it. The warlock gave a small smirk, before bending forward and inhaling some of the scent, his smile widening. The barrier was up. His spell had worked perfectly. He got up and left the ruined home, climbing on his bike and driving away. The house remained in the middle of the forest, a little ways off the main road, as if no one had disturbed it in ages.

* * *

Simone didn't really have a plan for her weekend. She had managed to finish the small amount of homework which her English teacher had given them in the morning, and then she had wasted the hours away by playing with her cat. Eve was gone, mysteriously, probably staking out the Sheriff's office, and Dan was still asleep, this time in his room. Luckily for the witch, the Meyers family had gone on a small trip, so she was pretty much on her own. That had given her a chance to sneak the book about werewolves, which was still making her feel paranoid, back into its place in the library.

"Excuse me?" A stern, accented voice sounded from the hallway and Simone jumped a tad and then got up, leaving Minuit on the couch. The Asian woman that had been at the Inn for at least a week was standing in the doorway to the kitchenette. She was dressed casually, in all black, with a large black bag on her back. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, but I would like to check-out?" It was posed as a question, but it sure didn't sound like it.

Simone gave a nod, though, heading towards the entrance. "This way, please." She said politely. From there, she continued forward, past the door and the staircase, into the former dining room. Now, it was reformed as a reception, along with a desk and a seating area. The teen walked behind the desk, turning the ancient computer on and opening the ledger on the proper date. "Your name, please." The witch easily recited the words that she had practiced with Dan a thousand times, as he pretended to be the weirdest or rudest guest ever.

"Kimura Keiko." The woman's accented the words in a strange way, speaking fast.

"Like Kenshin?" Simone couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth. The woman finally smiled, throwing her head back and laughing merrily. The young witch blushed, looking at the ledger.

"The kanji in my name is 'Ki', which means 'tree'. Kenshin-san's last name is Himura, which has the kanji 'Hi', meaning 'scarlet'." The woman seemed genuinely unoffended and quite amused. "Don't worry, it's not the first time that I've been asked to explain my name. It is the first time that I've been compared to Himura Kenshin, though."

"A-alright." Simone quickly typed the name and then looked at the other information needed. Date and time. She looked at her phone and filled it out. Payment. "Will you be paying by cash or credit?" The girl asked, looking up. She suddenly realized that the Asian woman wasn't wearing a shred of makeup and still looked like a supermodel. For a second, Simone wondered if everyone in Beacon Hills looked like they had just jumped out of a magazine.

"Here you go." The woman handed over a silver credit card. Simone accepted it with a nod and swiped it through the machine, waiting. The machine beeped and the girl smiled. The payment had gone through for the right amount. The ancient computer froze, the cursor turning into a little hourglass icon. She couldn't suppress an unprofessional sigh and bent down to hit the old machine, hoping that it would begin working after that. She had quickly realized why Dan considered the villa to only have two computers, calling this one a dinosaur. It was full of useless files and took longer than a school computer to boot up.

When the young witch rose, the hourglass sign had vanished, a number written in the payment area. Simone felt her eyes widen in shock, her eyebrows rising. That number had three zeros. The witch knew that the Lighthouse Inn was a pretty luxurious place to stay at, especially if you were also taking meals with the accommodation, but this was a ridiculous price. She wondered if the computer had, maybe, frozen at the wrong time and taken more money than it should've.

"E-excuse me, could you tell me how many nights have you stayed at the Inn, Miss. Kimura?" Simone shakily asked. The door opened, Eve's distinct heels clicking on the wooden floor. The Asian woman didn't have a chance to answer.

"Simone!" The blonde witch entered the reception, smiling wide. "Why don't I finish up here and you can go arrange these in the fridge?" And the woman handed her grocery bags, still grinning. "There are more in the car, honey."

Honey. That was the signal word. Usually, Eve didn't use terms of endearment. Sure, she occasionally cooed at Dan that he was stupid or an idiot, but not with Simone. However, whenever she wanted the teen to leave the room, she would use that word. Honey. It was a sickly sweet term that made Simone's magic crawl up and into her skin protectively, ready to defend its owner. The young witch hated it when she got signaled like that to leave. And Simone hated a small number of things. She simply didn't want to be treated like a child anymore.

"It was nice meeting you, Miss. Kimura." The teenager circled around the counter, taking the bags and leaving for the kitchen. She did catch the small nod that the Asian woman gave her, though. The witch couldn't help herself. She quickly stored the food into the fridge and the cupboards, before rushing out to the car. She paused in the hallway, pretending to take too long to tie her Dr. Marten's shoelace, attempting to hear the conversation.

However, she lucked out. It was in a different language. By ear, she would guess Japanese. After all, Simone had seen an average amount of anime in her life. Seriously, if you haven't seen at least one episode of Naruto or Bleach on the TV, you hadn't spent the same amount of time in the front of a telly as an average teen.

After the third trip to the maroon KIA, Simone had managed to get all of the plastic bags into the kitchen and properly placed the food. The voices from the reception desk moved to the hallway, still speaking in a foreign language. The young witch poured water into the electric kettle and readied one of the porcelain teacups for herself. She liked the cups here. They weren't the usual, Walmart mugs, like back home, but old, hand-painted cups from Europe. From Russia, as Dan had told her.

"Hey." Eve appeared in the doorway, smiling softly. "Do you have anything planned for today?" Then she noticed the kettle which was steaming. "Other than drinking tea, of course." Simone silently shook her head no, taking a tin can from the cupboard and opening it. "Then, why don't you make that cup to go and we can start stocking the shop?" The blonde witch bounded away, grinning. "Chop! Chop! Time is money, Simone Jones!" The last word made the teen remember the obscene amount of money which had been taken from Miss Kimura's credit card and she wondered just how much staying at the Lighthouse Inn cost.

Regardless of her questions, the witch poured the hot water into a travel mug, placing the teacup back in its glass windowed cupboard. She took a tea infuser, the one that looked like a blue dinosaur, and put her choice of dried leaves in it. Then, her drink was ready. Simone had just grabbed her bag when Eve came back downstairs, her makeup a little darker than before.

"Shall we?" The older witch asked with a bright smile.

* * *

"That's verbena officinalis." Eve said, pointing at the dried flowers that Simone was holding. She turned the book to the proper page, sliding it over to her young apprentice. "Be careful to separate it from the verbena hastate, because we have both."

Simone nodded silently, carefully writing the name of the plant in Latin, then in English and then tying it around the small bouquet of dried flowers. She also made labels for the different parts of the plant, which had been harvested and dried at the appropriate times and in the appropriate time. Being a herbalist was the essence of the Craft and precision was one of the most important things about it. If a plant was harvested at the wrong time, it weakened its magical properties, making the witch using it strain herself to make her spell work. Often, it also made the enchantment itself weaker.

A knock came from the door of the shop, making both Eve and Simone look up. There was a tall, light-haired man at the door, his face rather stern and half hidden by sunglasses. He took them off and the young witch noticed his eyes. They were so cold. So pale and so cold.

She had heard the compliment of her own eyes being 'like ice' quite often, from both her parents and their friends. Yet, she had never seen this sort of coldness in her reflection. No, her eyes were blue. Like the sky, she liked to think. Because, Simone loved the color of the sky. And not only that. She loved the freedom. The sheer space. Somehow, she connected to that phrase which she had heard, that the skies were huge. The teen witch had noticed it first when she had visited her grandmother, in the little mountain village. How the skies seemed to be enormous as soon as one left the city. She liked to think that her eyes were that color. Like the sky.

Eve scrambled off the ladder, from which she had been arranging numerous bottles onto shelves and headed towards the door. The cold-eyed man gave her a small smile as the woman let him in.

"I know that I mentioned my little shop, but I _did_ say that it wasn't open for business yet." The blonde giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Surprisingly, the motion looked natural.

"I was actually in the neighborhood." The man's voice was deep, rumbling. What a cliché, Simone thought. But, even though he was smiling, his eyes were still cold. Simone realized that she was gripping the glass bottle full of verbena flowers for her dear life. "There is a very good pizza place down the road, and my daughter wanted to get some on the way home." As if on cue, the door opened, a pretty, ebony haired girl walking in with a large pizza cardboard box in her arms.

"Dad, I put half pepperoni and half- oh! I'm sorry for interrupting." She stopped talking, noticing that her father was engaged in conversation. Simone recognized the girl. After all, it was tough not to, as she had been subjected to both Harley's and Rory's 'meet the Beacon High' narration. It was the new girl who had been introduced into Lydia Martin's clique, which Harley thought was quite outrageous. But, that wasn't the only reason why the young witch recognized her. She had also seen Stiles talking to the pretty teen on Friday night. And that evening was pretty much seared into the girl's memory.

"Nonsense, we were just chatting." Eve smiled, waving Simone over. "I'm Eve and this is my Goddaughter, Simone. She's also new at Beacon High this year." The teenage witch managed to release the glass bottle shakily, before nearing the small group. Surprisingly, cold eyes didn't run in this family. The pretty girl seemed genuinely kind and a tad sheepish about her interruption.

"I'm Allison Argent." The ebony haired teen said, shaking Eve's hand over the pizza awkwardly. "It seems that you already know my dad, though." Eve laughed.

"It's a funny story, really." She began telling, unaware of the way Mr. Argent and Simone had locked eyes over the pizza. "I was taking my evening run in the woods last night and your dad almost shot me with a crossbow!" Simone noticed the way Mr. Argent's eyes didn't even react to the words.

"Oh my God!" Allison exclaimed, seemingly between shock and mortification.

"It's no worries, though, he realized that I wasn't game pretty quickly." Eve laughed the situation off. "And after we got talking, we realized just how many things in common we had. Including you two!" The woman's arm came around Simone, hugging the girl to her side. The witch managed a smile at that, but it got frozen on her face after Mr. Argent spoke.

"Indeed." He, too, placed a hand on Allison's shoulder. "Shall we? Before the pepperoni cools down. You know that your mother hates re-heating the pizza." After the teen nodded, the cold-eyed man turned to Eve once more. "It was nice seeing you again, Miss Eve."

The blonde witch held the door for the two unexpected guests, smiling, as always. "You as well, Chris! Be sure to come to the Inn sometime, I have quite a few trekking maps for the preserve, which might be useful for your hunting hobby." Then, she turned to Allison. "And you should visit sometime, as well, dear. I'm sure that Simone would be glad to have you over." The two teens shared an awkward glance and nod.

"Delighted." The witch managed, twirling a piece of her hair nervously.

"See you at school." Allison told her, leaving after her father. Eve locked the door once more, turning to her Goddaughter. The smell of the shop, previously full of different earthy scents, was now mixed with a delicious, distinctive smell of pizza. Simone's stomach grumbled softly.

"Lovely man." Eve noted, walking over to the counter. Then, she lightly tapped her forehead just under her boho headpiece with her finger, as if she had forgotten something. "I didn't tell him that I ordered his wolfsbane!" The blonde shrugged, going to her abandoned work and picking up a couple of bottles full of colorful liquids. "I guess I can just bring it to him when it gets here."

"What does he need wolfsbane for?" Simone frowned. She still didn't like the man's cold eyes. "It's poisonous."

"Exactly." Eve spoke, her voice muffled from her stretched out position on the ladder. "He needs it for hunting." The witch turned slightly. "Hand me those bottles, won't you? By the way, I really feel like going for a slice of pizza now."

* * *

Surprisingly, the beginning of the next week wasn't quite as uneventful as Simone would've liked it to be. On Monday, she attended the lacrosse practice, by the insistence of Harley, and had to sit through an hour of awkwardness, as Allison was positioned but a few feet from her. Sure, they had waved to each other, but pretty soon, Lydia had taken the ebony girl's attention, and if there was one thing that Simone had learned was, that Lydia Martin did _not_ take well to being ignored or disobeyed.

However, it hadn't been the awkward meeting that had made Simone's Monday memorable. In fact, it had been the good boy, Scott, who had caught everyone's attention by dislodging the Captain's shoulder. Of course, Harley had spent the rest of the day convincing her two group partners that Scott McCall was in fact _not_ an aggressive guy. She had even told them that he had been too scared to jump off a diving board into the pool when they were younger. No need to say, the black girl had no idea how her adorable, scaredy-cat childhood friend had turned into a lacrosse machine.

In Chemistry, their group assignment about the effects of global warming on the animals' habitats, which focused on the chemical aspects of the global problem, had gotten them an A-. That fact had set off an angry tirade from the star of the school, Lydia Martin. If Simone was being honest, she had come to fear the redhead more than she had ever feared Rory. Lydia was simply a person that made you realize just how puny, ugly and useless you were. And the most terrifying aspect of her was that she knew that perfectly well and flaunted it every chance she got.

On the upside, other than talking to Harley and Rory, Simone had spoken to a couple more people at school, which she considered a magical thing that didn't involve spells at all. There was a tall boy, in her Chemistry class, who had asked her for a pen when he had forgotten his. Simone didn't know his name, but she considered him an acquaintance. Allison had waved at the witch before their French period and they had awkwardly spoken a couple of words about the pizzeria next to Eve's shop.

Other than that, Simone had met Emma, the only thing that Rory and Harley actually agreed on, and she didn't like the girl very much. Emma spent most of her time glued permanently to her boyfriend, in more detail, to his mouth. Simone had never seen anyone stick their tongue so far down someone else's throat before and she wasn't sure that she really wanted another look. In fact, she would prefer to never see that again, much less try and do it herself.

Thankfully, Rory had rescued her on Tuesday from another lacrosse practice game. It had taken at least fifteen minutes of convincing Harley how they wanted to be surprised by the awesomeness of their team during the game on Saturday, rather than the fact that they simply did _not_ want to watch the boys duke it out on the field.

"Seriously, I don't get why she loves watching that stuff?" Rory complained as the two waited in the parking lot. The skater girl usually went to school on her board and she had asked her mother to pick them up. "It's a testosterone filled battlefield where they are trying to measure the size of their sticks, like that proves anything." Rory snorted.

"I think it's an interesting sport." Simone mumbled. "But I prefer football, after all. I don't understand the rules for lacrosse."

"Are you stupid or something?" Rory gave her a look that clearly said 'you're stupid'. "It's ridiculously easy." A black SUV pulled into the parking lot, stopping in front of the two girls. Rory didn't even blink before she opened the door and hopped into the passenger seat. Simone reluctantly followed, slipping into the back.

"Hello Aurora." Mrs. Griffith greeted with a smile. She was a pale woman with light brown hair that was pulled into a loose bun. Her eyes were dark and her face had a touch of light, day makeup on it. She immediately turned back to Simone, greeting her as well. "You must be Simone! Aurora has told us so much about you." The skater girl visibly face-palmed in the front, wishing that the earth would open and swallow her. "Welcome to Beacon Hills. How do you like it so far?"

"It's really nice here, Mrs. Griffith." The witch politely replied. "I like the school and the people. Also, I really love that there are no large buildings everywhere. The preserve is amazing, as well."

But, before Mrs. Griffith could ask another question, Rory piped up, growling. "For fuck's sake, Lillian, just drive!"

"Aurora!" The middle-aged woman exclaimed angrily. "Don't you _dare_ use that language with me again!" And the SUV left the car park, the Beacon High getting smaller and smaller in the distance, the constant bickering of the mother and daughter the only sound in the car.

* * *

Surprisingly, spending time alone with Rory wasn't that bad. Simone had expected it to be awkward and filled with the girl's extreme opinions and cuss words, but it had been a tad different. The skater girl liked the same music as the witch and they had spent the first couple of hours listening to different tracks, watching YouTube videos and making fun of the various silly outfits and trends.

It had been Mrs. Griffith that had interrupted their ridiculous karaoke session to Nicki Minaj's 'Super Bass', which they were attempting to guess all the lyrics to.

"I thought you girls had more style than that?" The woman commented, raising her eyebrow at the rapper on the screen. Rory turned the song down, a grin still present on her face. Simone was attempting to calm down her giggling, which really wasn't working.

"We usually do, Lillian." Commented the skater. "But it was either Nicki or Eminem." And the two girls descended into another bout of laughter.

" _Any_ ways," Mrs. Griffith spoke. "I think that it's time you called your parents to pick you up, Simone. It's almost curfew."

"What?" Rory stupidly asked. "It's only nine twenty." She read off her clock.

"Didn't your teachers tell you?" Mrs. Griffith asked. "The police department has issued a new curfew. Everyone under eighteen has to be home before nine thirty."

"Wasn't listening." Rory shrugged.

"And what about you, young lady?" Mrs. Griffith asked the young witch next.

"Must've been in the bathroom?" Simone offered weakly.

**That's all for now!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some info:
> 
> \- Bay leaves are used in Wicca for protection and to avoid being jinxed or hexed  
> \- Felt is a fabric that holds magical properties as well. It is used for protection, good luck, wealth (white felt), sacrifice, strength  
> \- The spells which Dan uses are the following: Flamma (to set on fire, to burn) and Sarci (to repair, to mend) and they are in Latin (imperative form)  
> -Wolfsbane is a poisonous plant, but it can also be used as a healing herb (not recommended, it is dangerous)


	14. Griffith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much princessmegara for adding this story into your bookmarks and leaving kudos!  
> Also, thank you jitterbugg for leaving kudos, as well!  
> You guys are awesome :D

**Welcome back all of you lovely readers!**

* * *

**I would like to thank you all for your patience, as I have been drifting between fandoms and finding my inspiration once again. Thank you all who have reviewed, alerted and favorited! You make me keep writing :D**

* * *

**Without further ado:**

**Chapter 14: Griffith**

"-and then Rory says 'Run to your mommy, you little' errrr…" Simone trailed off, not really wanting to say the bad word which her friend seemed quite happy to repeat numerous times in a conversation. "Well, you know… And then, she takes her notebook and just goes away! And the teacher tries to stop her, but she just goes out!" With that, the witch finished her story of Rory's epic changing of class.

"She sounds like a real fruitcake!" Her grandmother's voice came over the phone, riddled with laughter and Simone couldn't help but simply smile. Genuinely, sweetly. She missed her grandmother. The woman was the ideal which the teen wanted to live up to. She was the witch that Simone imagined whenever she heard the word. "But, tell me, what is that ice princess Evangeline teaching you? Has she tested your affinity yet?"

"Tested my affinity?" Simone asked, pushing the window open and sitting on the still. "She said that it needs to manifest itself first?"

"Nonsense. It's already manifested." Her grandmother laughed. "What did you think all those bursts of your magic were? Fairies?"

"But… how do I test my elemental affinity?" Simone wondered. "Do I just try to set something on fire or-?" Her grandmother's laughter interrupted her.

"Nonsense." The old witch said. "Take a silver bowl, pour some fresh, running water and get a drop of your blood into it. It will show you the affinity." Simone looked out into the garden, watching the way the fog dragged along the ground, slowly seeping towards the villa. "The question is, why am I and why isn't Evangeline teaching you this?"

"I-I guess she's busy?" Simone stammered. "She's been spending a lot of time in her room or alone in the shop." The teen quietly said, looking at her lap.

"Feh." Her grandmother snorted and the teen could hear the clanking of pots and pans on the other side. Obviously, the old witch was making a potion. "Beacon Hills has always been trouble. Especially those Hale brats, running around like they knew everything."

"I met one." The blonde said, twirling a piece of her hair. "Laura Hale."

"Sassy, isn't she?" Commented the old witch. "That one talked back all the time. But, her mother wasn't too bad. Talia had good ideals. Too bad that she went about them the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"Talia Hale talked about peace between species, Simone." Her grandmother had stopped her work and let out a huff. "And that kind of talk gets you killed." There was a moment of silence as the teen mused over those words. "I pity the Alpha that is picking up the leftovers. Be on the lookout, because whoever it is, they will want a new pack. New pack means new werewolves. And new wolves are always trouble. They have no control."

"If you were the Alpha, who would you turn?" The witch wondered, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Teenagers." Her grandmother immediately answered. "Or women. Easy to trick and they would have a lot of anger. And nothing fuels a werewolf like rage." A beep sounded from Simone's phone and she pulled it away from her ear to take a look. _Rory_ , the phone screen said.

"I'm sorry, grandma, I have another call." The witch made an excuse.

"No worries, kid. You go have fun." Simone switched the call from her grandmother to her friend.

"Hello?"

"Get outside, bitch, I'm not waiting forever." Came Rory's voice and the line cut off. Obviously, her friend had come to pick her up. Simone jumped off the window still and closed the latch before grabbing her bag and leaving. Dan was sitting on the sofa in the kitchen, a book open in front of him when the witch peered in.

"Dan, I'm leaving." She told the warlock and got a silent wave, the young man's eyes not leaving the paper.

* * *

Rory drove a modern yellow Beetle and always complained how her mother wouldn't let her get anything faster. Instead, she kept nagging to Simone how she had, in fact, inherited the old thing from her older brother, who was now at college. Rory loved to talk about her brothers. Well, the older one more than the younger one.

Her father came from a long line of Marines, who loved the military with all of their life. Naturally, he, too, had carried on the tradition. He was a Major in the Navy and that's why they used to move a lot when Rory was a little girl. They had lived almost everywhere in the USA where there was a large Navy base. So, Rory had been quite happy when her mother had demanded stability and asked for a house in Beacon Hills, preferring to stay there with the kids while her husband for deployed.

Her mother was a sweet woman who used to be a teacher before she met her father. Now, she worked as an educational supplier in marketing. Rory had complained to Simone how the job was boring and demanded long hours, but that it was much better than seeing her mother at school every day. She had spoken of the fiasco back in Annapolis, when _Lillian_ had actually given her detention for doing a skateboarding trick off a cafeteria table.

Simone found it strange that Rory addressed her mother with her full first name, especially since it was a rather formal-sounding one. She didn't ask her pseudo-friend about it, though. She really wanted to, but she didn't. Simone wasn't built that way. She had this lump in her throat whenever she felt like asking a really personal question. Then, she'd get stuck in her own head, repeating all variations of it and trying to decide which would be the best. And in the end, she would begin questioning if she should even ask, which would result in her not speaking at all.

She really wanted to change that.

But, by the time she'd gathered her courage to ask about Rory's mom, the skater girl already had a question of her own, steering the topic away. Somehow, she'd found herself spilling all of her problems to the girl without holding back. Simone had talked about her frustration at her mother and how the woman wouldn't let her do her own thing, but forbid her from using her talent. Of course, the word magic hadn't left her mouth even once, and she'd realized why she'd always had trouble making friends: You couldn't really talk to them about your troubles. But, Rory had taken her stuttered explanation about a cooking obsession in stride, like she hadn't noticed the teen's slip up.

Talking to the skater girl had been different than what Simone expected it to be.

Rory wasn't really the consoling type. No, the girl had egged the you g witch on to vent all of her frustrations out, instead of defending her mother's actions. And by the time the yellow Beetle had entered Rory's street, Simone was almost yelling, her magic raging inside her and making the car stereo crackle.

"She sounds terrible." Rory said after Simone had retold the story of the familiars, or, in the non-magic version, the kittens of their family's cat. "I'm kinda glad that you moved here, instead of living with that witch. Serves her right." Rory stopped the car and undid her seatbelt, getting out. Simone did the same, taking her bag with her.

"She's not that bad." The witch awkwardly said, her anger now gone and replaced with guilt. While her mother was not her favorite person, Simone didn't hate the woman. "She's just trying to look out for me." Rory locked the car and gave her a smile from her side that made Simone gasp. "You tricked me!" Yelled the witch, catching up to her friend up the driveway.

"Well, you only fight so much with the people you really love." Explained Rory with a shrug. "You should see me and Zack. Lillian thinks that we'll kill each other half the time." Simone hadn't met Zack, the youngest child of the Griffith family yet. She knew from Rory, and Halrey, that he was a freshman and really into the gaming world, but other than that, not much. Except, a single touchy topic in Rory's life: Zack was the Griffiths' only biological child.

"You're mean." The witch told Rory as they entered the backyard of the house through a fence gate. The skater girl offered only a smirk, which told Simone that she knew just what she was doing and was reveling in it. The young witch had discovered that about her classmate recently. As rude and as uninterested as Rory came off, the girl was, once you dug deep enough, kind and caring, not to mention quite smart. Rory just preferred being tough. She didn't want to be pitied, that much Simone could tell. Why one would pity her, she would know, but she could see that Rory connected that to her childhood as an orphan.

"This way." The teen spoke, pulling Simone out of her thoughts and into the reality. The two girls went around the house and into the backyard, where a perfectly mowed lawn was. The young witch though just how much her mother would love for her own to look like that. "Lillian gives me five bucks to make it look like this." Rory told her when she saw the awed expression on her face.

"I'll give you ten to work with me in my garden." Simone's mouth supplied before she could help herself. Obviously, Dan was rubbing off on her.

"I'll take that deal anytime." Rory agreed with a laugh. Then, she motioned for her friend to come closer and showed her the universal sound for being silent. Simone frowned, but obeyed. They snuck across the perfect lawn, heading for the back door of the house, rather slowly. Rory turned from time to time to motion for Simone to go faster or slower, but other than that, they were deathly quiet. Then, a door sounded from somewhere and Simone caught Rory's sleeve.

"What was that?" She whispered to her friend who had frozen, eyes screwed shut.

"Fucking shit." Cursed the skater girl. "Run!" She dropped her bag on the floor and ran like the Devil himself was on her heels. "Run for your life!" Simone stood there, shocked, for a second, before following her friend in a jog.

"Rory? What is-?"

"Woof!" The bark sounded like thunder in the form of a dog, telling Simon just how giant the beast had to be to produce that sound. She froze, turning. Sure enough, it was _enormous_. As if in slow motion, she saw the huge dog, white and brown, running towards her, barking like a mountain was moving. Simone was by no means short, and this beast had to at least reach her waist if it stood next to her. And it was heading towards her like nobody's business.

"Jo, run!" Rory's shout reached her ears, but Simone was frozen still. "Max! No!" Rory kept yelling. "Max! Stop! Sit!" But Max, as Simone figured the dog was named, did _not_ in fact stop or sit. No, he launched himself at the young witch with a delighted bark like rumbling thunder, his massive form too much for her to handle. She landed on her back with a small scream, the wind knocked out of her. "Nooo! Bad boy, Max! No slobber!" The dog's mouth had opened, the huge, red tongue sliding around Simone's front and face, covering everything in drool. "Shiiiiiiiiit!" Rory cursed from somewhere behind the witch, and for once, she approved of the words. "Zaaaack! I'm going to _murder_ you and remove the evidence!" She then yelled at the house.

"R-Rory!" Simone managed to push away the giant, furry head. "He-elp!" The young witch cursed her magic, which hadn't even recognized the beast of a dog, Max, as a threat.

"On it. I'm on it." Rory's face came into vision above the dog, pulling with utmost concentration on the blue collar in an attempt to remove the beast from her friend. "Max, come on! Where's Zack, boy? Hmm?" Her voice took a ridiculous, cooing tone, way higher than its normal frequency. "Where's Zack? Go find Zack! Go!" Max's massive body moved, and he trotted away towards the house happily. "Good boy!" Rory yelled after him and then grabbed Simone's arms, pulling her up easily. "Why didn't you run when I told you to, you idiot?"

"Because I didn't know that you had a beast in your yard!" Simone shrieked back, adrenaline still pumping through her. She reached for her face, wiping away some of the slobber. "Oh, Goddess." She sighed, brushing away the damp hair.

"Sorry. Max was out the last time you were here." Rory told her, looking quite apologetic, which seemed strange on her. "I forgot that you didn't know about him. Zack was supposed to lock him in the kennel, anyways. Useless brother." Rory grabbed her bag from the floor, heading towards the house on a path of vengeance now. "Come on, let's kill the youngest spawn of the Griffiths and erase the evidence." She smirked.

* * *

It was around half an hour later, after Simone had taken a quick shower in Rory's bathroom, yes, she had _her own_ bathroom, that the girls settled in front of the TV together. Zack had yet to show his face, and the witch had heard some quite painful sounding yells come from his room while she dressed in the lent clothes. She looked quite badass, if she dared say it. Rory's wardrobe was like Lzzy Hale had met Taylor Momsen and then they'd proceeded to party with Avril Lavigne at Hot Topic or Spencer's the whole night. In the end, Simone had settled for a pair of loose sweats, with Jack from Nightmare Before Christmas all over them, and a sleeveless shirt, plain and black.

She had looked at herself in the mirror on the door of Rory's room, shocked at how well the clothes fit her. She looked like a rock star. Rory had come and picked her up from the room, taking her to the den on the same floor, where a large TV and a stereo system was. The Griffiths were rich, Simone could tell that much from the house. But, they showed it in a different way than Eve did.

The Inn was as old fashioned as they came, decorated in furniture from the old days, dating as far as the First World War. Sure enough, the new residents had made some modern improvements, like the kitchen and the patio outside, yet, some of the rooms looked like they had come straight from a TV show or something. The Griffiths' house was different, though. It had three stories, the ground level with a living room, kitchen and bathroom. The second was for children, as Rory had showed her, and it was used mostly by her and Zack alone. The third was for her parents, and Max was the only one who went there other than the adults. Then again, Max went pretty much wherever he wanted.

After Simone and Rory had settled into the den with a movie, the cheesiest one which they could find, the witch had actually gotten to know Max a little better. He was a perfect example of the giant St. Bernard breed, perfect for long trekking in the mountains or guarding a house. However, as Rory had explained 'Lillian screwed him up', which meant that the dog was much more adapt at taking care of children and tidying up the house than at actual dog-like activities. He didn't know how to fetch a ball or a frisbee, but he could tell which socks were whose and put them into the right basket for dirty laundry. He was eager to eat almost any leftovers that there were, and enjoyed sleeping around the house all day instead of running about the woods. He was, in short, the laziest dog Simone had ever seen.

Though, she had quickly forgiven him for all the slobber and warmed up to the giant puppy, which had chosen to lie down in front of the couch and serve as a footrest for the girls. No wonder her magic hadn't even registered the dog as a threat. Now that she prodded his energy with her own, a technique that Eve had been teaching her, she could see that he had one of the purest and calmest that she had even been around.

They had finally paused the movie, right in the middle of it, and went, giggling, to raid the fridge. Rory was pouring spicy chips into a large bowl, humming the song from the movie. Simone moved to the cupboards, finding the plate with round separators, clearly for dips, quite easily.

"I love how she's incredibly peppy." Commented Rory about the movie.

"It's like Barbie meets Lydia Martin." Added the witch with a giggle. Rory groaned.

"I don't believe that _that_ would be necessary." A new voice commented from behind Simone and she squeaked a bit, whirling around. "Martin does just fine with being a diva on her own." The boy in front of her was shorter than her, but he was positioned on the stairs, so he loomed over her. She could immediately spot the differences between him and Rory and his similarities to Mrs. Griffith.

He was lanky, with a youthful face, looking much younger than his age. Rory, instead, was built curvy, with muscles in all the right places, as she clearly exercised a lot on her skateboard. He was terribly pale, like he hadn't seen the sun in ages and his dark eyes were large, wide, looking at her and taking her in in a calculated manner. He was calmly observing. Unlike Rory. She was tan, her green eyes always expressive, be it anger, worry or pure mischievousness.

"Piss off, Zack." Rory threw over her shoulder, successfully introducing her younger brother. Simone watched him as he descended the last couple of stairs, coming next to them and grabbing some chips, eating them.

"You're the new girl." He told Simone, leaning on the counter with an elbow, still watching her in a cool manner. Now, though, the young witch could see something on his face. A hint of curiosity. A little bit of mischievousness. He _was_ like his sister, after all.

"Unambiguous observation." She returned his sarcastic tone with a big word, causing a smirk to appear on his face.

"Smooth, new girl."

"Oh, God, Zack." Rory groaned, pushing her brother away and bringing different dips to the counter, beginning to pour them into the proper spots. "Go flirt with your virtual girlfriend or watch porn, or something." Zack's ears burned a brilliant shade of red, the blush spreading to his neck as well. He turned around and headed back upstairs, but not before grabbing a bag of Pringles from the lower part of the cupboard. "I'm sorry about him." The teen apologized.

"You didn't have to be so mean to him." Simone murmured, looking at the chips. She had wanted a brother or a sister, like any only child had at some point. She had often imagined the scenario in her head. Sharing her bedroom. Sharing her craft. Talking about her anger at her mother. Having a best friend in the house. She hadn't imagined _this_.

"Oh, please. He'll get over it." Rory told her, rolling her eyes and grabbed the dish with the dips, heading upstairs. "You should hear him!" She continued once she was sure that Simone was following her. "He talks about you all the time, by the way." Rory deepened her voice a bit, though it was quite unnecessary, as Zack's voice hadn't broken yet. "She wore maroon today! She had a braid! Will you call her over for a sleepover?"

"Shut up, you Crawler!" Zack's voice came from behind the door of his room, squeaking even more than before. Rory gave Simone a meaningful look before they continued on to watch the rest of their movie.

* * *

It was dark by the time Dan arrived to pick Simone up from the Griffiths'. Not to mention that it was well past curfew. Zack had ended up joining the girls, settling in between them on the couch with a large ice-cream container, caramel flavored. They had all shamelessly passed the treat around, eating with the same spoon, all while watching the second girly movie which they could find, She's the Man, with Amanda Bynes. It had been a great follow up to the former, Legally Blonde.

Simone had almost been sad to go.

Zack and Rory had come all the way to the door with her, as they kept re-telling each other the jokes from the movie, all three of them laughing like crazy. The freshman boy had made Simone swear to come back and play a game with him next time, promising that he'd withstand playing even Mario Carts if it was to smoke his sister.

Dan had raised an eyebrow at the smile which the witch couldn't keep off of her face as she neared the car. But, he didn't comment as Simone climbed into the passenger seat, buckling in and closing the door.

"I take it that you had a good time?" The warlock finally said as he took the maroon KIA down the road and towards the highway. He reached over and turned the volume of the stereo down, so that they could talk easier.

"Yeah." The witch finally said. "I had fun." Dan glanced over her once, twice, but she didn't say anything else.

" _And_?" He asked, smiling knowingly at the young witch. But, Simone's smile just widened.

"Shut up." She playfully tossed at him, reaching over and turning the volume back up on the stereo. That warlock's laughter was drowned in the growling vocals of Alice Cooper's Poison.

* * *

It started like a tickle. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, breaking him from his sleep, tearing him away from his dreams. He was painfully aware of the itch, which simply needed to be scratched. Demanded attention. He needed to awaken now. It was time.

It was _his_ time.

His eyes slowly opened, only to be greeted by the pitch black darkness. He couldn't see. He couldn't see anything. His arms moved, followed by a sound of metal clanging suspiciously like chains. They had chained him. Him. They had chained _him._ It was a feeble attempt to keep him at bay, at best, undoubtedly by some rogue hunter. Witches knew better.

Witches.

He took a shaky breath, smelling the dust and decay all around him. He longed for air. For clean air and for the light of the moon. He longed for nature. By the sacred magic, he felt like he'd been trapped for centuries. For all he knew, he might've been.

He focused and then, moved.

The chains snapped away from his body, like they'd become glass and the top of the container where they'd put him in rose like it wasn't a stone slab but a piece of light paper, ready to fly in the wind. For a moment, his strength seeped away from his tired limbs, leaving him panting there, just struggling to breathe. To exist.

How the mighty have fallen.

And then, after minutes of hours, he didn't know, the power slowly returned to him and he forced his body upwards, teeth grinding against each other. It took him every ounce of strength to just sit up and look around. He was nowhere that he knew of and he could spot a couple of quite powerful spells a little ways off, bound to the Earth with runes.

It would take him some time to leave this desolate place.

He took a breath of fresh air, the moon shining high above him, a wolf howling in the distance. As his lungs filled, he smirked, the muscles of his face protesting madly. He was alive. He was alive and he remembered everything. He could feel it. The eerie call of his core, of his essence. He could feel that which had been stolen from him.

And _they_ would _pay_.

**Dun dun dun duuuuun!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, some facts from the chapter:
> 
> \- Zack references the Crawler from Fable III  
> \- Max was supposed to be a Golden Retriever, but I decided on a St. Bernard in the end  
> \- Rory actually prefers eating healthy, except when she's watching something


	15. What's in a name?

**Surprisingly, I'm still alive, and with a new chapter, no less.  
**

* * *

**In all honesty, I've just seen the rest of the TW season 6 and I've never been so disappointed in my whole life.. Well, maybe by The Originals xD So, I might have to take my own road after season 3 or 4… I'm really not feeling the recent stuff….**

* * *

**My headcasts:**

**Daniel King – Beau Mirchoff**  
Evangeline Forester - Beth Riesgraf  
Simone Jones – Portia Doubleday  
Aurora Griffith - Jessica Parker Kennedy  
Zack Griffith - Thomas Brodie-Sangster

**Without further ado, enjoy!**

**Chapter 15: What's in a name?**

Dan's motorcycle was waiting for her in front of the school, as always. Simone ignored Rory's and Harley's teasing giggling and switched the grip on her messenger bag, so that it rested on her back. She caught the spare helmet which Dan tossed her and undid her hairclip, so that she could put on. The warlock offered her a hand and Simone accepted, swinging her leg over the bike, glad that she'd worn tights instead of a dress.

Rory catcalled after the duo as Dan started the bike, driving away. Simone rolled her eyes, making sure to hold onto her driver tight. But, she couldn't help the small smile that spread on her face as the Kawasaki sped away towards the highway.

Now, you must understand that Simone had never had many friends. It wasn't that she didn't want to befriend people. No, it was quite the opposite. She wanted to have her own squad of girls to hang out with and go to the mall with, even though she wasn't much of a shopper. She wanted a couple of guy friends as well, so that she could shamelessly watch action movies with them and get away from the girl drama for a while. But, those were just fantasies.

Simone had been very young when she had understood that the chances of her having friends were so low that they were practically buried in the ground. She'd had a friend back in kindergarten, when her family had still been living in Illinois. Well, the teenage witch had considered them friends. The first argument had been about a sleepover. The second had been about her mother's job. The third had been about all the books in the library which were off-limits. And then, the short friendship had ended.

Simone hadn't been able to talk to her friend about the new things which were happening to her. She hadn't been able to talk about her first dreamwalk, which signaled that her magic had matured. She hadn't been able to speak to anyone about her first flight, short, yet successful. She hadn't been able to retell her first experience at losing control over her emotions, sending everything in the house flying, bursting all the lights. Simone had realized, at a tender age of six, that she would _never_ have friends.

The bike stopped, Dan positioning its leg. He took off his helmet and mussed up his hair, smirking at Simone behind him. She placed a careful smile on her face as she took off her own helmet as well.

"Good day at school?" Dan asked, opening the door and strutting in like he owned the place. He left the helmet on the antique armoire on his left, before going into the kitchen. The witch was pretty sure that he had left the gear there on purpose, as Eve hated it when he did that.

"It was alright." The teen replied, walking into the kitchen as well. She spotted Dan already on the couch, his shirt off, as usual. She couldn't help her frown. By now, she was used to his exhibitionist behavior, though she still couldn't help the way her eyes glued themselves to his stomach. Seriously, Dan had _abs._ Proper, workout until you drop, abs. Like she'd only seen on White Collar, whenever Matt Bomer had a shirtless scene. Seriously, when did he find the time to work out? "Mr. Beauchamp decided to make us read a book, since Stilinski was flailing in the back." Dan's laughter rang out at this and he looked at her upside down, over the edge of the sofa.

"Seriously?" The warlock asked. "That's pretty advanced for French II."

"Tell me about it." Groaned Simone. French had never been her strongest subject. She preferred something like Chemistry or Math. That didn't mean that she didn't pick up the language quickly. No, she just didn't like it. "I need to read a whole chapter by Monday." Simone threw her bag onto one of the sofa chairs and headed for the sink. As usual, it was full of dishes. Eve hated doing dishes, and Dan was as lazy as they came. With a shake of her head, the witch took the sponge into her hands and began scrubbing the first plate.

"Just use a spell or something." Dan shrugged. Simone hummed, but otherwise didn't respond. The two fell into a comfortable silence, as the warlock fiddled with his phone, playing a game, and the girl did the dishes, before making some cookies. Dan turned on the radio after a while, tuning it in to the rock and roll station, singing along when a familiar song came on.

It was some time later that Eve entered with a cheery giggle into her phone, slamming the front door behind herself. She ended her conversation fairly quickly, tossing a couple of flashy, shopping bags onto the kitchen counter before she walked over to Dan and plopped down into his lap. She let out a laugh when he grunted in pain and fiddled with her cellphone absentmindedly, the conversation over.

"Well, don't you two look like you're free." The blonde commented with a smile, noting the easygoing atmosphere in the room. Dan attempted to push her off of his lap and on the empty space on the couch, but she swiftly jabbed him in the ribs, where he was ticklish, and he gave up.

"I was free as a bird before you came, amazon woman." He complained, wriggling around to find a comfortable position with her added weight. " _She's_ got homework, though."

Simone tossed a nasty look over her shoulder. "Not for tomorrow I don't." The oven beeped and she put on the protective gloves and pulled the cookies out. "Besides, I have a plan for the quiz tomorrow."

"Oh?" Eve jumped off of Dan, who emitted another grunt and murmured something which suspiciously sounded like good riddance.

"I'm going to try this memory spell that I found in the library. I mixed the magic in the chocolate before putting it in the dough." The young witch explained, proud of her ingenuity. The spell was originally for charming a talisman, but she preferred to bind it to food. That way, it would use less complicated magic and it could be removed, instead of waiting for it to wear off.

"I see." Eve hummed. She reached over and took a cookie, biting a piece off. After chewing she spoke. "Still needs a little spike on the end, though. Try using a little bit of rum, it's always good for cleansing." Simone nodded and headed for the cupboard, finding the old bottle of rum easily.

"Don't you think it's time we taught her some proper magic instead of these parlor tricks?" Asked Dan from his spot in a serious voice. He'd flipped onto his stomach, so that he could look at the two witches better.

"True." Eve agreed, finishing the cookie. "Get that bowl over there, would you? We can't teach you anything without knowing your affinity." She told Simone and the teen fetched the dish. Eve filled it with water all the way to the top and settled it on the counter. Dan hopped up and walked over to them as well, motioning with his hand at the door. With a soft murmur from him, they closed and locked themselves. "Hand." Eve demanded and Simone extended her arm out.

The older witch took one of the sharp knives from the drawer and made a small cut in the teen's palm. Simone hissed and her hand twitched back on instinct, but Eve held her in place. Slowly, blood blossomed from the cut, drops going down her skin and then falling into the water. Simone counted them. One. Two. Three. Eve released her hand and Dan tossed her a kitchen rag with a smirk.

"Pour some magic into the bowl." The blonde commanded, looking at the slowly vanishing red drops.

"Just pour it in?" Simone asked. "How?" She only knew how to weave a spell. It was a strange thing, casting. She would have to call on the dull thrum of her magic and then allow it to rage in her blood, warm her in a strange way, before she spoke the words of the spell, out loud or inside her head. The words held a lot of power in traditional craft and in modern religion. The rules were a tad different, but still similar. It was the words that directed her magic, commanded it, and not her.

"Oh, right." Eve broke away from her trance, touching her forehead with her fingers lightly and laughing a bit. Her numerous bracelets jingled as she moved. "I forgot." She took Simone's hands in her own and immediately, the young witch felt the magic emanating from her Godmother. Her own rose in response, drumming in the back of her head. "Now, when you're not weaving, but using pure magic, you need to imagine it in a different way. It won't be formed by your words, but by your movements, alright?"

"Alright." The teen replied, having no idea what the witch meant.

"It shouldn't feel like you're using a cup to gather water, but like you're using your hands." Told her Dan, obviously noticing her lost expression. Goddess, he'd become able to read her quite well.

"That doesn't make any sense." Eve frowned.

"Does to her." The warlock countered.

"Really?" Simone shyly nodded. Eve let out a sigh, shrugging. "Clearly, I'm out of my league here. Anyways, you need to pour that 'water' into the bowl, if that makes sense." Simone nodded and now touched the bowl with her hands. The cut in her palm stung a bit, but she ignored it. The ceramic surface was cool underneath her skin which had heated due to the raging magic inside of her. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the drum in the back of her head which kept getting louder and louder, like it was going to burst out of her forehead.

Something crackled and a light burst above them.

"Woah!" Dan exclaimed, ducking his head. A couple of shards landed into the bowl, sinking slowly. Simone watched them as they sank, twirling around like they were dancing.

"It's pretty strong." Eve offhandedly commented, looking up at the light which had exploded. Though, for Simone, their words were mere background noise. It was like she was underwater and everything was playing on a pair of bad headphones. There was a dull thrumming in her ears, she could hear her blood pumping through her veins. But, more importantly, she could hear the crackle and the rush of magic in her body, springing to life. It wanted to be loose. It wanted to wreak havoc. Little spells weren't enough. It needed a storm.

"Simone!" Eva's voice finally entered her mind, like she had been sucked out of a vacuum and the teen witch realized that Dan was attempting to wrench the bowl out of her hands from the other side of the counter, sending water everywhere. "Simone, you need to stop now! Simone!" Her hands let go of the bowl and she realized that she was shaking. She was trembling like she'd just run a whole marathon, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. "It's alright, honey. You're fine." Eve was holding her tightly.

"Damn." Dan commented, lowering the bowl and waving his arm over the spilled water, murmuring a spell. Instantly the liquid heated up, becoming steam. Simone followed everything with wide eyes, like she'd just woken from a nightmare. She listened to Eve, who kept instructing her to take deep breaths. She felt exhausted. Her legs were like jelly.

"It's alright." Eve told her as Dan came around the counter and the two drag-carried the limp girl to the couch. "This is why we did this together. Loads of things can go wrong with magic. It's unpredictable." Simone gave a shaky nod, glad that she had been lowered on the couch. Dan vanished from the room, only to return with a blanket a moment later. The witch realized that she was ice-cold.

"Di-did y-you f-find out m-my a-affinity?" Simone asked, her teeth chattering. Eve and Dan exchanged an uncomfortable look, before they both smiled at the teen. Simone found the magic in the back of her head twisting and she felt the pit in her stomach return. She didn't trust Eve. And she was beginning to doubt Dan as well.

"Not this time." Said the woman. "We'll try again some other time, when you practice your magic some more, alright?" Eve told her with a comforting smile. Simone nodded, but, she couldn't help thinking that her Godmother looked less and less like a Disney Princess and more like the witch who disguised herself to look like one. Luckily, the blonde woman stood, and with one more smile, left the room. Dan had settled himself next to the couch and he was playing with the edge of the blanket, looking quite thoughtful.

"Wh-which affinity do you think I have?" Simone asked, her teeth slowly stopping their chattering as she got warmer and warmer. Dan's head jumped up, and he shrugged.

"There's a method to guess it by personality, but it's not too reliable." The warlock said. "For example, mine's fire. So, I'm daring, enthusiastic, decisive, but also, jealous, violent, and irritable." Dan smiled lopsidedly at her. "See, it's not exact. I'm not that violent or irritable."

Simone scoffed out a laugh. "In certain occasions you are." He stuck his tongue out at her rather childishly. "What a-about Eve?"

"Air." Dan explained. "Carefree, joyous, independent, but also has a lack of perseverance, is dishonest and cunning. Spot-on, I'd say." _Dishonest._ Simone filed that thought away, looking away from Dan. She didn't want him to pick up on her doubts. She needed to ask him another thing, stop thinking about her bad gut feeling.

"Which affinity would you guess I have?" Dan shrugged, before taking out his phone, checking his messages.

"My best guess, you're either earth or water." He said absentmindedly, checking his Twitter and Facebook. "Earth's the most stable of the elements, and your mother's affinity. Parents can sometimes influence their child's affinity with their own."

"Why water, then?" Simone asked.

"Easy." Dan hopped onto his feet, grinning down at her. "Your personality." With another glance to his phone, the warlock offered a small wave. "I've gotta run, sorry. It's an emergency. Don't get up until you feel warm again." And soon, Simone was left alone once more.

She grit her teeth and pushed herself up. She needed to call her grandmother.

* * *

Simone's head dropped to her desk with a dull thud. She was pretty sure that it was going to bruise, as well, but she didn't care. She could hear the classroom slowly being emptied, but she didn't make a move to head towards the cafeteria for lunch. She didn't feel like eating. She only felt like sleeping.

She hadn't had the chance to call her grandmother yet and ask her about the blunder from the day before. She was honestly stumped. After she'd failed Eve's test she'd asked Dan about it, as he had stayed glued to her side. Apparently, it was a very common test and any witch or warlock would take it before learning serious magic.

Dan had told her that there are magic spells of different levels of complexity, and that they are mostly categorized into easy, medium and advanced, based on how difficult they are to do. He'd even admitted that he had a lot of problems with medium level spells, such as mind reading, as she'd witnessed before.

While she'd been listening to the young man talk, Simone couldn't help but wish that she could've had such knowledge passed down to her from her mother. Unfortunately, the woman seemed to hate the very idea of her daughter being what she was: a traditional witch.

"You look glum." Came Rory's voice from her left as the girl obviously made herself comfortable, as usual. Simone pulled her head up, offering her friend a smile.

"I'm alright." She replied with a shake of her head.

"Right." Rory's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but she didn't otherwise make a comment. She proceeded to completely ignore Simone and unwrap her lunch. Just as the young witch was about to say something, Harley cheerily plopped next to them, smiling wide.

"Did you see what Lydia Martin was wearing today?" She asked popping a french-fry into her mouth.

"Who cares."

"Mhm." Answered Rory and Simone.

"Well, FYI, everybody cares." Snapped Harley at the sarcastic response, glaring at the girl. Rory didn't even react.

"Aaah which brand was her purse, do you know?" Simone quickly asked, attempting to diffuse the tense situation. "I really liked it." She couldn't even remember seeing Lydia Martin. In all honesty, she avoided the popular girl like she was the plague.

"Chanel, of course. So it's ridiculously expensive." Harley said, opening her water and drinking some. "I wish my parents were as loving as hers."

"If you call that loving." Snorted Rory, making Simone flinch. In a second, another argument broke out between the two girls, but the young witch wasn't listening anymore. She was thinking back to Dan's explanation of different elements and their uses. How witches with a fire affinity were much better at using destructive spells. Also, how those with an earth element could almost communicate with plants. She'd found out that her mother had that affinity.

What a strange thing, Simone thought, remembering all the hours which her mother spent in the garden. You'd think that a witch with an earthly affinity wouldn't have to work so hard to keep her plants alive.

"Simone!"

"Y-yes?" Stammered the girl, brought out of her thoughts abruptly.

"We were deciding on your nickname." Continued Harley, now that she had her attention. "So, we thought that you should be part of the discussion."

"My nickname?" Asked the witch, tilting her head a bit. She'd never had one before. Pet names, tons, mostly from her mother and grandmother, but, no nicknames. Sure, she'd heard that her name was old-fashioned and hard to pronounce, but she'd never gotten a nickname. There was simply nothing that one could shorten it properly into.

"We were thinking SJ?" Said Harley with a smile. How did they get from arguing to the topic of my nickname, wondered Simone, but shrugged at the suggestion. SJ sounded alright to her.

"A little bit too Spiderman for me." Commented Rory with a frown. Harley tossed her a glare over the table.

"Mone? Mona?" She shot out, eyebrows furrowing.

"Bleh." Rory said once more, expressing her dislike for the names. Simone was, in all honesty, thankful. She didn't like either of them.

"Why? Mona is a nice name!" Protested Harley.

"Really?" Countered Rory. "Look at her. Does she look like a Mona to you?" She pointed her finger at Simone, who was silently drinking the mint tea from her water bottle.

"True. A Mona would have more makeup." Nodded Harley with a sigh. "And style."

"What's wrong with my style?"

"You see." Simone and Rory spoke at the same time, the former being completely ignored.

"Well then, why don't you suggest a better one?" Harley crossed her arms. "Come on. We're waiting for you to do so, smart chick." She challenged. Rory raised an eyebrow.

"How about-"

"Jo." Someone said from behind the skater girl. The small group turned around only to see Rory's brother, Zack, sitting at the table next to theirs. "You were being so loud, I figured I'd just solve the problem for you." He told the silent girls. After a few quiet moments, he pointed his pen at Simone. "Your last name _is_ Jones, right?" When she nodded mutely, he shrugged. "There you go." And went back to his work.

The girls all turned around, sharing looks, before bursting into laughter.

* * *

Simone was in chaos.

She wasn't attempting to hide her magic, or anything, which was the cause of her panic 99.9% of the time. No. This time, it was much worse. She was late.

She cursed once more under her breath, jumping about as she attempted to pull on her maroon leggings while standing. She was well-aware of the fact that her hair, long, might I add, was bouncing about, getting completely tangled, and just after she'd brushed it. Just as she was pulling the leggings over her hips, her phone began buzzing on her dresser. Pretty soon, the familiar notes of Nightwish's Wishmaster rang throughout the room, making the girl sigh.

It's funny how once you put a song as your ringtone, you start hating it. And she'd really loved this one for a long time. She was still, after all, going through that 'moody teenager' phase where she believed that the whole world was against her.

"Rory?" The young witch answered her phone, holding it between her shoulder and ear so that she could choose a long blouse from her wardrobe.

"We're gonna be late if you don't get your ass down here." Her friend's voice replied as the familiar horn sounded from outside of the Inn. Pulling one of the floral themed blouses off the hanger, Simone took her phone into her hand.

"I'll be down in a sec." She wasn't. It had actually taken her fifteen more minutes and five more calls from Rory to come downstairs, and then, she'd listened to her skateboarding friend grumble about her lazy, late 'ass' the whole way to Beacon High. Thankfully, Harley was waiting for them in the parking lot.

"Hey!" The black girl greeted them. "Where have the two of you been? The bleachers are almost full, you know." She told them as the two left the yellow Beatle, Rory taking only her phone and keys with her and Simone carrying her bag. "You won't need that, sweetie." Harley told her and the witch threw the messenger bag back into the back seat.

"Well, I arrived on time." Rory said in a tight voice. "And then we had a little accident time-wise."

"We should hurry then." Harley commented and grabbed both of their hands, pulling them towards the field, where Simone could already see the lights and hear the noise of the pre-game cheers and the spectators. "I want to be able to _see_ some of the hotties play. Like Jackson."

"He's an ass, Harley." Groaned Rory.

"True." The girl agreed with a tilt of her head, which made her ponytail and earrings jump to the side. "But he is a mighty fine piece of ass." Now, Rory laughed, while Simone couldn't suppress the blush on her pale cheeks.

"So, have you ever been to a lacrosse game before, Jo?" Asked Harley as they pushed through the crowd and settled into the middle of the last row of the bleachers. Simone felt her cheeks color at her new nickname. She liked it. Jo. It was trendy and sounded cool.

"Not really." The witch replied, watching as everyone bustled about. There were cheerleaders jumping into the air and doing their cheer routines, making unbelievable pyramids with their bodies. Players were stretching, putting on their gear. She managed to spot a couple of people she knew from class. Coach Finstock was already yelling like a madman, though Simone doubted that he had any other setting in his person. "I've never really had an interest in watching one."

"That's bull." Rory interjected, but Harley wasn't having it.

"No worries, sweetie, it's just a regular match." Said the girl. "There are, of course, a few things you should know about before it starts, though. Firstly, we are the red team." She pointed at one of the players on their bench. "Next, that is Jackson-"

"The King of Assland." Piped in Rory.

"-who is the team captain. He's ridiculously good." Harley ignored the girl. "You probably know Danny, as well, from class. He's the goalie. And perhaps you're familiar with Steve? Number six?"

"Lord of Dumbness." Rory interjected once more. Simone suppressed her laugh, in the end making it a cough, so that Harley's nasty look towards Rory wouldn't escalate into another argument.

"How about-"

"I know number twenty four." Simone said in a small voice, spotting a familiar face, looking about nervously.

"I heard that Jackass was injured in practice." A male voice, rather high-pitched, came from Simone's other side. She turned, only to find Rory's younger brother, Zack, sitting there, munching on a bag of Lay's Chips. "Chips anyone?" He offered without stopping his intake of the junk food.

"No thanks. And, Jo, how in the world do you know Stiles?" Harley replied without missing a beat, causing the young witch next to her to shrug. Rory was ignoring her brother, as usual. Simone, with a small smile, accepted some chips from Zack. Luckily for her, before Harley could ask her a follow-up question about her relationship with Stiles, a whistle rang out as Coach Finstock called his team to him.

The match was starting.

**That's all for today folks!  
I'm looking forward to reading what you thought of the chapter :D**

* * *

**Some stray info:**

**\- Zack loves chips, his favorite is the kind with onions and sour cream or with vinegar and salt**  
\- Zack started his chips obsession when he started playing video games  
\- Harley usually wears hoop earrings of bold colors – mostly neon  
\- Rory has called Simone by her new nickname, Jo, before Zack suggested it  
\- Simone is terrified of being late because she was once late to class and ended up in detention


End file.
